She Came From the Archives
by AngryAmericanok
Summary: The Abyssal War has dragged into its fourth year, and the combined fleets of the world have held the line against the enemy. But the Abyssal fleet has the sheer numbers to keep hold on the majority of the world's oceans, and the fleets of Humanity just don't have enough shipgirls to effectively drive the enemy back. Until now.
1. Chapter 1

**Autumn, 2028**

Naval Station Newport was abuzz with activity.

In addition to its critical strategic location, from which shipgirls protected southern Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and parts of Long Island. It was a major center of R&D for the shipgirls.

It was in Newport where the US Navy perfected its repair formula for its shipgirls, where Graf Spee became the first non-American shipgirl to receive late-war American antiaircraft artillery, and more breakthroughs.

But today they would be trying something never before attempted. Today was the day that they would try and summon a ship that had never even left the drawing board.

Arkansas felt the sense of excitement and apprehension that permeated the base as she inspected her rig. She and her comrades would be assisting in a new possible chapter in the war with the Abyssals, but at the same time, they wanted so many shipgirls around just in case what they got wasn't friendly.

Her rig was a large assembly of steel, shaped sort of like a fishhook if viewed from above. On it were the turrets for her battery of heavy guns, a funnel, and the masses of AA guns that had been attached to nearly every available surface. The steel had been painted to match her winter dress, a mix of dark blues and grays that served to break up her outline and make it that much harder to get an accurate shot at her. She aligned herself and lifted the steel structure up to her mid back. It attached easily, and she set about checking her turret traverse as she settled her hairband (which would have been the top of her mast had she still been a steel ship) onto her head. Though at the probable ranges today, such a high observation point probably wouldn't come into play.

All six of her turrets responded to her commands with ease, and the twelve 12''/50 Caliber Mk 8 guns elevated and depressed with no issues.

Those were another of the advancements that Newport had managed. Fitting the 12'' guns from the Alaska class large cruisers into the turrets of the old Wyoming class had been a feat alright. The guns were lighter, and with the ability to use the very effective Mk 18 AP shells, they were welcomed by the chronically under gunned Wyoming sisters.

"Hey! We're going to be late!" Arkansas jumped slightly and turned to face the two Nevada sisters.

The two battleships had been in the Atlantic for a while now, where their lower speed wasn't as much of a handicap as it was in the high-speed battles in the Pacific. Both of them were dressed nearly identically, though the white blouse and dark blue skirt that all the Standard line wore in one way or another had been replaced with their own winter camouflage of grays, blues, and whites. Even so, it was easy to tell Nevada's sharper features and chest length blonde hair from Oklahoma's softer face and short dark brown hair. Their rigs were also slightly different, with Oklahoma retaining the mostly exposed tripod mast. But both of them packed dozens of light and medium AA guns in addition to their main battery. Seeing them made Arkansas feel a little better, 20 14''/45 caliber guns and some newly reinforced armor on her side did tend to do that.

"I'm ready now. Lead the way."

* * *

The summoning lab was housed in a specially constructed building right on Coddington Cove. Today the roof panels had been lifted up and the sliding door that opened onto the bay was open, filling the building with natural light and fresh air.

In the center was a pool, one of the central aspects of a summoning ritual had been found to be something akin to a drydock. Many of the shipgirls that had arrived early on had emerged from things as small as tide pools, though no one knew exactly why.

Stacked neatly around the pool were piles of steel, brass, aluminum, timber, shells of all shapes and sizes, drums of fuel oil, and boxes of coal. The critical resources that a ship of the shipgirls era might require.

Scores of people were already seated on the bleachers that surrounded the perimeter of the building, conspicuously most of them were seated behind the line of waiting shipgirls. Lots of them Arkansas recognized from the development teams, along with a smattering of officers from the Navy and Marines.

Closest to the pool were the other shipgirls. The biggest was Washington, then West Virginia, then the heavy cruisers Louisville, Vincennes, Graf Spee (on a visit from Germany), and two squads of destroyers. Out in the bay, Arkansas could just make out a few submarines lurking right below the surface.

"We might not get any licks in if this goes bad," Nevada quipped as the trio joined the force of waiting shipgirls.

Just a few moments after they arrived, the event began.

Patriotic music started playing over the speakers, and the R&D team started doing something with a stapled together booklet. Then the piled resources started to slide over to the pool. Every minute seemed to take hours as everyone in the room watched the methodical procession of steel, wood, large shells, and oil drums as they vanished into the water.

Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

The next moment a shipgirl appeared from the surface of the pool.

Arkansas's first impression of the new girl was that she looked an awful lot like Graf, with only two very large main turrets, but that's where the similarities ended.

The newly appeared shipgirl was dressed in a white shirt, a navy blue skirt, and had a bright red neckerchief around her neck. She had large bright blue eyes and a sort of long face, with a shining head of nearly white, downy hair. Her rig carried two large triple turrets mounted away from her on arms, four smaller ones on their own arms below the main guns, and a distinctively American cage mast that rose above her head.

She skated across the water, stepped up and out of the pool, and saluted Commodore Pierce, who was the head of the project. The stone-faced commodore returned the salute and then extended his hand to the new girl.

"Hello. It's good to have you with us."

With a confused expression, the new girl took Pierce's hand and shook it. "Thank you, sir. I have a question though."

"What is it?"

"What's my name?"

"You don't have a name?" Pierce asked, glancing over at the other members of the project. They looked just as confused and surprised as Pierce must have felt.

"No sir," She replied as she looked around the building.

"Well then, we'll have to fix that. What are you though? I don't recall seeing-"

"I'm a battleship, sir!"

"Alright. You are… Rhode Island."

The newly named battleship's face lit up at that, "Ohh! Thank you!"

Pierce gestured to the assembled shipgirls, "I'll have some questions for you later, but until then I'll let you get acquainted with the other girls."

Rhode Island practically skipped over to the other shipgirls, her face bearing an expression of sheer elation. The regular humans started to depart and converse amongst themselves, realizing that they'd have to wait to meet the new shipgirl.

Now that they were on the same level, Arkansas noticed something else about Rhode Island.

She was _small_.

Arkansas's eyes were level with Rhode Island's forehead, and she had been the smallest battleship in the group.

Washington, who towered over nearly everyone present in the first place, was the first to speak.

"Hello there! I'm Washington."

Rhode Island, with the top of her head barely being level with the fast battleship's chest, looked up at the shipgirl who towered over her. "Hello! You're very tall."

As Washington laughed at that comment, Graf got close enough to ask, "What do you have?" The heavy cruiser's eyes were wide and locked on the two massive turrets on Rhode Island's rig.

"These? Six sixteen inch, fifty caliber rifles. Twelve six-inch guns in four triple turrets, and two torpedo tubes."

"Wow…" The so-called pocket battleship stepped back, clearly thinking about something.

"Anyway, I got some stuff set up for you. You're probably hungry aren't you?" Washington asked.

"Now that you mention it, I guess I am."

As the short Rhode Island followed Washington towards the door, Oklahoma commented, "She's taking it really well."

"Yeah," Nevada replied, "I guess it's probably since she was never built." Arkansas nodded in agreement. The transformation from an unaware steel warship to a living thing with actual thoughts and feelings was disorienting at best and took a while to recover from. There were many video compilations of new shipgirls having issues with such simple things as not tripping over their brand-new feet, let alone skipping around.

"What was she anyway?" West Virginia asked. "I don't remember anything like her ever even being talked about, let alone designed."

"No matter what she is, I think we're being left behind." Arkansas said as she started towards the door, "Come on, we can find out more about her over lunch."

* * *

 **Notes:**

So, while I was looking around Shipscribe I found some concepts for 1920s era 'small battleships'. Rhode Island here is based on the adorable little 530' long E-3 design.

Is she overgunned? Possibly, but I don't think that its anything that MSSGM can't resolve.

Plus, well, 'SB-1'. We must have the dakka.

I picked Newport, RI since the Navy had a torpedo testing range in the area back in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Rhode Island is about 4' 11'', Arkansas is about 5' 2'', Nevada and Okie are 5' 6'', WeVee is 5' 9'', Graf is 5' 8'', and Washington is 6' 8''. Iowa and Yamato are both above 7 feet, and have learned to stoop to get through doors. Rhode Island could probably walk between a Tillman's legs without having to bend over at all.

If I were better at writing physical comedy, I'd write more things where new shipgirls figure out what to do with their hands and feet all the wiggly little pen- FINGERS AND TOES on them.

Graf Spee wants some better guns than the SK C/28s she has now. She doth covet Rhode Island's guns.

I also like the idea of shipgirls wearing camouflage, and I don't care how effective it was. It looks cool.

Originally Posted on SpaceBattles on January 30th, 2018


	2. Chapter 2

**Naval Station Newport, Rhode Island,**

Commodore Pierce sat at his desk and flipped through the booklet of Spring Styles designs that had been used in the ceremony. After a few moments, he finally settled on the drawing that was the ship form of Rhode Island. He looked up at the group that had been responsible for putting the book together.

"Well gentlemen, what do you think?"

"Not the best we could have gotten from the plans, but once we get her through a major rebuild she'll be able to run with the rest of the battlefleet here well enough." The leader of the research team, Dr. Archer, replied. "As soon as we're done here, we can get to work on developing a good rebuild plan."

"What do you expect to be able to manage?"

Archer started pointing out features on the drawing. "The first priority is enhancing her anti-aircraft armament, for a start we would replace those six inch guns with dual purpose five inchers for a start. At least four Mark 28 for the DPs, two or four Mark 27s, depending on firing arcs and weight. We'll pull the torpedo tubes, replace the cage mast with a tripod, add on a radar set, and we'll see what else we can change from there.

"I'll let you get to it then. In the mean time, I'll need to see about getting her over here to start the registration process. If the rest of them will let go of her for long enough."

"Do you really want to try that now?"

"Not really, no." Pierce shrugged and leaned back in his chair, "Washington is responsible enough to get her over here to start on that before the day is done."

* * *

The shipgirl mess was a large building, built with high ceilings and wide doors to accommodate even the largest of shipgirls. Arkansas brought up the rear of the line as they filed in. She shed her rig, and paused to inspect Rhode Island's rig more closely.

It was nostalgic in its sparseness. The swooping cage mast, the sparse AA guns, the simple paint scheme, all of them were like the battlefleet back in the old days. Back when they were still steel ships, brand new from the shipyard, before the wars and the treaties and the marching of time forced them to change and depart from one another.

She shook her head and walked into the main dining hall, she could reminisce later. She waved at the cooks behind the buffet line as she wound her way through the smaller tables to the long tables that had been pushed together in the center of the room. The mess was packed with both regular humans and shipgirls, from little destroyers to the towering figure of Washington, all six feet and eight inches of her. Oklahoma waved Arkansas over to an open seat by her and Nevada.

Arkansas sat down just in time to catch Washington finish introducing the shipgirls around the table. "-That's Arkansas right there."

"Hello everyone." Rhode Island replied, timidly. Now that she was surrounded by even more people, Rhode Island seemed to be coming down with a case of the nerves.

"So," Washington sat down beside Rhode Island, "I'm sure you have some questions about things."

"I do." Rhode Island's brow furrowed and she sounded unsure, "I'm a battleship. I know that I'm a battleship. But I'm clearly not."

Washington gestured to the dozens of ship girls around them, "But we are ships. We were all steel ships back in the day, and we're still warships now. The only difference between us and you is that you were never actually built."

"How does that even work?" Rhode Island rested her head on her hands and stared wide-eyed at the table. Arkansas heard Oklahoma whisper,

"I guess I was wrong."

Washington wrapped an arm around Rhode Island's shoulder and spoke gently, "Because we are needed. All of us are here because the people of our nations needed us again. I was scrapped, same with West Virginia over there. Arkansas, Oklahoma, Nevada, and Graf over there were sunk in one way or another. But we're all here to fight for our homes, and people, again."

"But-" Washington cut Rhode Island off,

"The way I understand it, we all existed in one way or another. We were given a soul from our designers, more from our builders, and even more from our crews. That's what made us, and part of that is what made you."

"Okay…"

"Hey," Arkansas said, "We'll take care of you, you're among friends here."

Rhode Island nodded slowly, then turned to Washington. "You said we were needed. What for?"

"That can wait a little bit longer," Washington said as she pointed to the buffet line, "first we need to get you supplied. Everything seems better after a good meal."

* * *

An hour later, the mess had emptied out significantly. Washington spread a color-coded map of the world out over the table. "This is the current state of the world." She pointed to Newport, "We are here now. The blue areas are generally secure, the yellow ones are contested, and the red ones… That's where the enemy is the strongest."

"Who is the enemy anyway?" Rhode Island started pointing out areas on the map, "Not the British, not the Germans, not the French, not the Japanese…"

"They're called Abyssals." Nevada replied, "They showed up right when the first of us shipgirls did, all over the world."

"The wars been going on for almost four years now," Graf added.

"And you've all fought them?"

"Yes, we have." Nevada said, "Some of us for longer than others, but we've all duked it out with them somewhere."

"What are they like?

"That depends, but overall they are driven by a desire to kill humans, and shipgirls like us." Washington pointed to a large patch of red on the map that started from the top of Iceland and ran north and west over most of the coast of Greenland. "Right in here, for example, is the Volcano Island Princess's stomping grounds. The smaller Abyssals from here love to raid south across the convoy routes. Mostly surface raiders, but there are plenty of subs as well. Back before we wiped them out, the ones that were here." She pointed to a yellow area around the Azores, "Were supplied from the Princess, and were mostly subs, small ships, and loads of aircraft. But we finished the last of them off a few weeks ago."

"Here," West Virginia set a large binder down on the table beside the map. "This is the ID guide for all confirmed Abyssal types, including the ones that have been sunk or otherwise wiped out."

Rhode Island started skimming through the guide as Washington continued explaining the map. "The Abyssals aren't stupid on a strategic level, so they can they concentrate their forces at major chokepoints for shipping like the Suez, Panama, Singapore, Gibraltar, etcetera. The north end of Panama is pretty safe for the most part, since they have to try and sneak through the Caribbean. But the south end isn't very safe. For your first few assignments, they'll probably have you in the Caribbean, most of the new girls rotate through there while they get acclimated."

Then Rhode Island looked up from one of the entries in the guide. "This one looks sort of like you," she pointed at Oklahoma. The guide was open to the entry on the so-called Revived Battleship Demon that had been sunk by Nevada in the first Aleutian Campaign, nearly four years ago. As no photos had been taken, hand-drawn sketches from the shipgirls that were present were the only things that showed what it looked like.

"We're pretty sure that I was that Abyssal." Oklahoma said quietly.

"What?" Rhode Island looked from the sketches in the binder to the battleship seated down the table from her.

"That's the thing about Abyssals. Sometimes they are able to take a ship's… spirit or soul before she can become a shipgirl like us. No one remembers what they did before they came back as a shipgirl, but you can see what the Abyss can do to us." West Virginia's tone was cold. She knew that a few pages over there was an Abyssal that had worn her face before Iowa had blown it off two years back.

"I don't remember anything from when I sunk to when I arrived in San Francisco," Oklahoma shrugged. "It's just one of those things that we don't talk about much."

"It says that Nevada sank... It?"

"I did." Nevada closed her eyes, thinking back. "That was less than two months after the war started, on one of the first real counteroffensives. I was separated from the rest of the fleet in a storm, then I found it. Or it found me. It tried to get me to join them, the Abyssals. It promised me revenge." She shivered, "I almost accepted."

"When I said they were smart, I meant it. Especially the ones that are taken ship spirits. Some of them can really get inside your head." West Virginia's tone was deadly serious.

"That's really scary."

"Abyssals are scary." Arkansas said, "There's a reason the wars been going on for more than four years now. Except for the Alaska campaign that Nevada was talking about, for the first year Humanity was mostly losing."

"Really?"

"Yes." Nevada somberly replied, "There were the first attacks in September. Guam fell, along with almost every other island. The south locks at Panama were blown up, the Suez was mined, among other things." Her voice rose in pitch as she went on. "Gibraltar was massacred, then mined. In November the Nimitz took enough hits to put her in the yards for more than two years, and the Russians lost the Kuznetzov off Norway a week later. Norfolk was bombed all to hell for the second time…" Nevada paused as her sister wrapped an arm around her and relaxed slightly. "I've been fighting almost since the start. I made it into Pearl less than a week after A-Day. Things have improved since then, but we're still in for a long war."

"Which is where you come in," West Virginia gestured to Rhode Island. "We are on par with or better than the Abyssals now, but there just aren't enough of us. You can see where this is going."

"Me."

"Got it in one." Washington looked down at the map and sighed, "It feels like it's been longer than three years now."

"Is that how long you've been fighting?" Rhode Island asked.

Washington nodded. "Yep. One day in Newark I came out blinking in the light, and a week later I'm putting sixteen inch shells into Abyssals around Halifax." She shook her head at the memory, then grinned at Rhode Island. "Now that you're sort of up to speed on the general situation, it's time to deal with the epoxy that greases the wheels of progress."

"What?"

"Paperwork." Washington said as she started rolling up the map, "You need to get logged with the US Navy so you can get paid, the IGtSG needs to be updated, you need to get assigned to a bed somewhere, plus whatever else they've come up with since I came back."

"The eye gee what?"

"The International Guide to Ship Girls. It has information on every single shipgirl in the world, collected in… How many volumes now?"

"Uhh..." Graf Spee started counting on her fingers, "One volume for battleships, all nations. Three for cruisers, one volume for heavy, two for light, again for all nations. One for aircraft carriers, about five each for destroyers and submarines, and something like ten volumes for every other type."

"They have copies in the Commodore's office, but we should get going. It's going to be at least two hours to get this done properly."

Rhode Island jumped to her feet and squared her shoulders, "Let's go then!"

* * *

 **Notes:**

I imagine that the IGtSG is collected (the hard copies at least) in big three-ring binders so new entries can be added easily. Each class gets at least a page with several photographs or technical drawings, some technical statistics, and information on personal history and personality. But it'd probably be closer to a page for each shipgirl. They'd be real doorstoppers too.

Every other type is merchants, monitors, airships, and other auxiliary ships.

I wonder if anyone can discern the pattern to where shipgirls show up?


	3. Chapter 3

**Newport, Rhode Island,**

The rest of the day was busy for the new battleship. First, there was the paperwork, which took several hours to get through, then the photographs, measurements, and other information about her physically, and now there were interviews with the research and command staff.

Doctor Archer had a comfortable office near the summoning pool that looked out across the bay. The walls were lined with bookshelves, along with several large posters and charts with topics that ranged from floatplanes to types of 16'' shells. His desk was surprisingly clean, with little but a keyboard and mouse, a couple of screens, and a pad of notebook paper with a pencil. The doctor picked up the pad and looked across the desk at Rhode Island.

"If you're uncomfortable with anything that I ask, you just let me know and we will stop."

"Alright."

"Very good, I'll just get started then. Do you have any memories of before you arrived in the pool?"

Rhode Island's response was slow and thoughtful, "I know that I knew things from before. But... Nothing personal."

"Could you explain what you mean?"

"Let's see… The Great War was just over, the Eighteenth Amendment was just passed, the Wilson was talking about the League of Nations, uhh…"

"Interesting." Archer looked thoughtful, then asked, "Does the 'Treaty of Versailles' have any significance?" Rhode Island shook her head. Archer continued, "Then does the name 'NC-4' mean anything to you?"

Rhode Island shook her head again, "Not really no."

He pondered for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "What about Zapata?"

"Oh! He was shot… Not that long ago. April tenth I think?"

"Thank you," Archer started scribbling notes on the pad. "The plan that you were made to is dated April 19th, 1919. And it seems that your memories are of things that would be known before that date."

"Like by a draftsman?"

"Exactly. Now, next question. Do you have any strong feelings about say, Germany?"

"I don't know anymore."

"How so?"

"It was earlier today when I saw Graf Spee. She seemed really nice, and she was definitely a Hun."

Archer cracked a slight grin at that, "Indeed she is. Before long you'll get some lessons on how to keep things running smoothly with shipgirls from other nations. I wouldn't recommend calling Graf a Hun to her face."

"I'll remember that. I do have a question though."

"Shoot."

"What happened between 1919 and now? I met three shipgirls that had all sunk, and Washington made it sound like some of it was in battle."

"A hundred years happened. In a day or so you'll get started in a proper history class that will answer that question. You can ask questions but don't ask about sinkings. Just don't, for everyone's sake."

* * *

The shipgirl quarters was a squat, sturdy building located on the west shore of Coasters Harbor Island, positioned to allow rapid deployments of shipgirls right out onto the bay. Rhode Island followed Washington as she made her way down to the battleship's common room.

It was spacious, well lit, with a mismatched assortment of furniture that ranged from a thoroughly battered couch that was at best a month from spontaneous disassembly, to a set of booths and tables from a diner against one wall. Posters, photographs, and charts covered several of the walls.

There were eight smaller rooms that opened off of the main room, two of them were bathrooms, and the rest bedrooms. Washington walked directly to one of the rooms and opened the door, "Here you go." Rhode Island stepped past Washington and took in her new quarters. The walls were bare, there were two beds, two closets, and two desks. "You'll have the place to yourself tonight, I'm right next door if you need anything."

"No one else?"

"I'm just here for the week. My sister and I spend most of our time in Boston, Arkansas is up here from Key West to see her sister, and WeeVee's home is down in Norfolk. Newport has a pretty high turnover rate, Nevada and Okie have only been here for about a month now while the New York City command is shuffled around. By this time next month who knows where they'll be." Washington yawned and stretched, "I'm going to turn in I think. Don't hesitate if you need anything, and good night." With that, the fast battleship strode into her own room and shut the door behind her.

Now alone, Rhode Island did the same.

* * *

The next morning, thoroughly rested, Rhode Island stepped out into the common room. One of the bathrooms was closed, and the sound of someone who was probably West Virginia singing drifted out. The Nevada sisters were seated in one of the booths, both of them typing up something, steaming mugs of coffee beside them. Then she noticed the note attached to her door. Rhode Island tore it off and read,

'Hey,

Sorry to leave you hanging, but I'll be pretty tied up with menial crap for today. A couple of things to do: find the factory and see about your rebuild, get familiar with the base, ASK QUESTIONS. Tonight is gunnery practice.

-Wash'

"Oh, good morning," Nevada said as she got up, mug in hand. "Sleep well?"

"Yes."

"That's good," Nevada padded over to a decrepit coffee machine. The battleship was much less imposing now, with her hair loose, and wearing a navy blue bathrobe. "Wash left you a note?"

"She did, I need to find the factory apparently."

"The factory?" Oklahoma perked up. "I can take you there."

* * *

The factory was physically located on Rhode Island, the actual island, just north of the Naval Health Clinic. It was a large, low building of the same vintage as the shipgirl quarters. Both had been built after the attacks on Newport in the months after A-Day, during which many of the existing buildings had been damaged beyond repair or outright leveled in the bombardments.

Oklahoma waved her ID card at a black box on one side of the glass door, and it opened automatically. Inside was a bustle of activity, as dozens of workers tended and operated scores of machines. Rhode Island kept close to Oklahoma, but still tried to take in as much as she could.

Most of the machines were entirely unfamiliar, but some of them were clear enough. One machine, twenty feet high at least, was turning the barrels of what looked to be naval guns in miniature. At least twenty of the partially finished barrels were resting on a stand off to one side, where they were taken to another machine. That one was some sort of lathe that finished the inside of the gun barrel before sending it off to another machine. Before she could see what happened next, Oklahoma had started up a staircase towards an office that overlooked the floor. She knocked before letting herself in, with Rhode Island following right behind.

The office was drab, with a large shelf on one side, a desk with a computer on the other, and a single occupant, currently being hugged by Oklahoma. Rhode Island stopped just inside the door, unsure of what to do. The man nodded at her and smiled, "I'm guessing that she's the new one?"

"Yes, she is." Oklahoma let go and stepped to one side, "Duncan, this is Rhode Island. Rhode Island, this is Duncan Laing. He's one of the support engineers attached to the battleship divisions."

"Hello."

"I've already got some information from Archer, so I'll be able to talk you through some of what we'll be doing." He pointed to a folding chair, "You can take a seat there." He turned back to Oklahoma, "And I will see you this evening."

"I'll be by after gunnery," Oklahoma winked at Duncan before stepping out. After she left, Duncan sighed happily before turning his attention to Rhode Island.

"Hello again. If you don't have any questions, I think we can get started right away."

"I don't have any now."

"Alright, we can get right into things. Feel free to take a seat." Duncan turned one of the computer monitors towards her while she took the offer. She studied the photographs of her rigging, heavily annotated. The engineer continued, "To operate with the fleet, you're going to need a fairly major refit.

First off is fire control, but to mount that the cage mast has to go. That gets replaced with a tripod, and you get a Mark 38 GFCS system. Turrets are mostly fine, but we'll be fitting delaying coils to the center gun in each of them, and boosting the elevation by another 15 degrees to 30. Then the six-inch guns will be replaced with dual purpose five inchers, one for one at least. At least two Mark 27s, on top of the main turrets. A bank of Oerlikon guns up here-"

"I have questions now." Rhode Island's eyes were still fixed on the notations, "Could you slow down some?"

Duncan shook his head, "Sorry. Most of the girls are familiar with most of the tech already. So, what first?"

"Fire control."

"Alright then," Duncan pointed to the top of Rhode Island's mast, with a tripod sketched over it. "The Mark 38 Gun Fire Control System is a big deal because it has a three-centimeter radar set. What's special about that is it lets you acquire, aim, and fire at a target without having to get your actual eyes on it."

"That's interesting, but how?"

"Here," Duncan grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil and started drawing out an electromagnetic wave. "Radar uses radio waves that are sent out, then bounce back to a receiver. The time taken gives the range to the target, and the shorter the wavelength means that you get a more accurate view. It's so good that you can get angle and range data for a firing solution, even beyond the horizon." Rhode Island's eyes had gotten wider as she understood what that meant.

"That would mean…" Elevations like that were beyond anything in her range tables, and working out the new range took several seconds. "More than thirty thousand yards!"

"Pretty close. Now, the delaying coils will keep the center gun from firing for a few tenths of a second. The muzzle blast of the outside guns tends to throw off shell dispersion by a lot. Are you with me so far?"

"When do you start?"

Duncan cracked a smile, "Heh, it'll be at least another day or two to get everything fabricated. Then at least another day to get the mods done if everything works right."

"Alright then… What about the five-inch guns?"

"Dual purpose, suitable against surface targets and aircraft. Planes are really dangerous by the way, so AA guns are very important." Rhode Island thought back to the multitude of smaller guns that sprouted from the rigs of the other shipgirls she had seen,

"That makes sense."

Duncan continued, "The Mark 27 is an automatic three inch AA gun, and the Oerlikons are 20 millimeter AA guns. The Mark 27s will go on the roofs of your main turrets, and the Oerlikons will go almost wherever they can fit. Now that I look, there might be some space for a couple of forty millimeter Bofors guns too, but that can come later. What else… We'll pull the torpedo tubes since they're almost useless. The AA guns will get their own directors on the mast, and that is most of what I'll be responsible for. Anything with armor or engines goes through the docks and Doc Hughes, he's down in NYC for the week though."

Rhode Island leaned back in her chair and imagined the changes. A technological leap, decades in a matter of days, with capabilities that were scarcely dreamed of in 1919. After a few moments, she said,

"It's a lot to take in."

"It is. But without it, the rest of the battle line would leave you behind, and you'd be an easy target for any Abyssal that got guns on you."

"Alright. What about the AA guns? I don't have any real knowledge about how to use them."

"You're in good hands there." Duncan said as he pulled up a calendar on the computer, "You'll be up to spec inside a week, and Wyoming is already here. I don't think that there's anyone alive who knows more about teaching that kind of gunnery."

Finally, Rhode Island asked, "Could I see more of the factory?"

"Sure."


	4. Chapter 4

**Newport, Rhode Island,**

 **The Factory,**

Duncan stopped beside the large machine that Rhode Island had seen while on the way in, "This is the Configurable Multi-Barrel Turning Machine." Duncan said, "It can make up to four main-battery caliber barrels at a time, of just about any type in the world."

"What kind are being made now?"

"Prototypes of mark three sixteen inch fifty caliber guns for you. No one's ever made any of those since you're the first ship to carry that type."

"I thought that there were other ships, like the Lexingtons and the South Dakotas."

"Ah, yes." Duncan heaved a sigh, "Listen, the Washington Treaty is a pretty touchy topic with lots of shipgirls. Lots of ships were scrapped, and a bunch more were never finished and broken up or otherwise disposed of."

Rhode Island shivered as the meaning of that sank in, "So…"

"You met West Virginia and Washington yesterday."

"I did."

"There was going to be another Washington, scratch that, there _was_ another Washington. Colorado class, West Virginia's sister ship. When the treaty hit, she was about seventy-six percent complete. She was never finished, and was sunk as a target ship off Virginia in nineteen twenty-four."

"That's horrible!"

"Like I said, it's a sore spot for a lot of people. But that's the reason why we're prototyping gun barrels for you now, since the ships that would have had them weren't built, or finished in a way to use them."

Rhode Island was silent as she contemplated what she had just heard. After a few moments, she asked, "So if I had been built back then…"

"I don't know. That's more of a question for Archer. Anyway, do you want to go on? That was pretty heavy stuff to spring on you like that."

"Yes. It's just surprising is all."

"Good. Let's see… Over here is the CNC bay," Duncan took off at a brisk walk towards a series of low machines. "These are sort of like the CMBTM, but these are obviously smaller. These things can make gun barrels, hull plates, anchors, just about anything steel that's needed."

"Oooh," Rhode Island peered through the safety shield of one of the machines as it cut a chunk of steel into a breechblock for a heavy gun. "So everything happens here?"

"For riggings, weapons, clothes, and other equipment yes. The annex over at the medical center is where the docks are for shipgirls."

"Other equipment and clothes?"

"Yeah," Duncan gestured to a low building inside the building across the work floor. "Electronic systems, tailoring, aircraft, all of that happens over in there."

"Could we go see that too?"

"Of course."

* * *

It was well after noon when Rhode Island left the factory. After the tour, where she had seen the equipment that she'd have in less than a week under construction, including the scout airplanes and directors, Duncan had gone over the process of the refit in even more detail. Before she left, the tailoring section had given her another two sets of identical uniforms.

She spent the next few hours wandering around the station, getting familiar with the lay of the land. The bulk of the shipgirl's buildings were located on Coasters Harbor Island, built in and around the Naval War College. On her meandering path, she went by Luce Hall, through the library, dropped the new clothes off in her room, went back over a bridge to the large island, and towards the shipgirl mess. Located right around the east side of the commissary.

By now it was well on towards two, and Rhode Island's stomach was making its presence known. The mess was fairly sparsely populated, with a few handfuls of shipgirls and the odd human here and there. Rhode Island dug her ID from a pocket and moved to the line. The day before, Washington told her that all she needed to do was tell them what she wanted and give them the card.

A simple transaction later, and Rhode Island had a tray stacked with fried fish and french fries and was out looking for a seat. There was no one that she recognized among the people in the hall. Taking a chance, Rhode Island sat down at a table occupied by several people who could only be shipgirls.

The largest shipgirl, who Rhode Island figured was the leader of the group, looked up in surprise. "Who are- Wait. You're the new battleship right?"

"I am. My name is Rhode Island. Who are you?"

"Shipley Bay. I'm an escort carrier." Shipley Bay was slender in build, fair in complexion, with long black hair, and blue eyes behind a pair of wire-frame glasses. She was dressed in a dark blue shirt and sort of short set of overalls that was patterned in a mix of blues, white, and grays. The same colors patterned her headband, which also sported what looked like the radar antennas that the other shipgirls had.

Rhode Island shifted uncomfortably as Shipley Bay scrutinized her. After a few seconds, the escort carrier whistled and said, "They really did it."

"What do you mean? "

"You're brand new, like really new."

"Yes. I am."

"Cool." Shipley Bay gestured to the mismatched group of four destroyers that was also at the table. "This is the rest of my group. Corbesier, Naifeh, McLanahan, and Daniel A. Joy." The destroyers smiled at Rhode Island before returning to their food.

"Hello."

"We've got an ASW patrol that starts in an hour or so," Shipley Bay explained. "So all of us will be leaving before too long."

Remembering Washington's last instruction, Rhode Island asked, "How does that work?"

"Around here we generally go out and make some circuits around the islands and check out the coasts to make sure that nothing is hiding out there," McLanahan replied.

"My planes sweep the open areas for anything that might be an enemy submarine." Shipley Bay continued, "Not much around here these days though."

"Interesting."

"It's pretty dull work most of the time, but when we find something…" Shipley Bay flashed a predatory grin, "If it doesn't run fast, it dies."

For a moment, Rhode Island felt a little bit of the energy that Shipley Bay was describing. Hunting down and destroying the enemy, what they were made for, requiring both skill and luck to complete the task. "That sounds great."

"Oh, it is."

* * *

A few hours later, Rhode Island was back on Coasters Harbor Island. She had spent the last few hours crisscrossing the base, committing as much of it to memory as she could. It was clear that many of the buildings were just a few years old, and many more showed the signs of hasty repair. There were also several batteries of high-elevation guns around, but without any apparent crews.

"Rhode Island!"

Rhode Island turned to see Arkansas running towards her, and she had someone with her.

Arkansas's companion had a marked similarity to her. Her face had similar sharp features, though very slightly softer. Her dress was the same color and cut, and her rig and headgear had a similar shape.

But she had some significant differences. The new shipgirl was scrawny, even when beside the lean Arkansas. Her hair was short and auburn while Arkansas's was long and black. A pair of wire-framed glasses were perched in front of a pair of green eyes. Then her rig, with only a single large-gun turret, but bristled with smaller guns of all shapes and sizes. On her shoulders and rig was the number '17'.

"Rhodie, this is my sister Wyoming."

Rhode Island looked confusedly between the two, "Hello?"

"Oh," Wyoming laughed, "I was converted to a training ship, that's why I look so different. I'll be in charge of your training once your rebuild is complete."

"Oh, I see."

"I'm glad we found you," Arkansas said, "Gunnery is in just a few hours, and we'll need to book it to get out to the range."

"But I don't have-"

"Your rig is on a rack outside our quarters, we'll be out at the harbor mouth." Arkansas pointed south, "Get a move on!"

But Rhode Island was already running at full tilt to the shipgirl's quarters, more than 15,000 horsepower leaving cracks and dents in the pavement.

Sure enough, her rig was sitting outside the door on a bright yellow frame. All the other racks were already empty. There were many types of rack, hers was Y-shaped with supports for the main turrets and under the main hull where it attached to her. She turned around and felt the rig attach to her lower back.

Rhode Island paused, processing the sudden change. She was acutely aware of her surroundings like she could see them, even with her eyes pointed front. Next was that the rig, at least 150 pounds of steel, didn't feel like it weighed much if it weighed anything at all.

But at the same time, it felt right, like it was really meant to be worn by her. Pushing the thought aside, Rhode Island ran off towards the waterfront, then down towards the mouth of the harbor.

* * *

The sun was less than an hour from the horizon when the formation of Arkansas, Rhode Island, and Wyoming arrived at the designated live fire zone. Looking back, Rhode Island felt a thrill run through her when she realized that she couldn't see any land at all.

Then the air seemed to split.

She jumped and looked around to see a cloud of smoke rise over the horizon. A few moments later it happened again, and this time Rhode Island thought that she saw the shells on their way for a short second.

"It looks like they're already warming up," Wyoming said. "You'll get a really good show."

"So, why are we going out so late?"

"Officially it's so that targets can be set up before any night firing exercises," Wyoming replied. "Unofficially, I think it's because Wash likes sunsets, so she likes to come out here in the evenings."

"Who doesn't?" Arkansas replied.

Rhode Island tuned the other two shipgirls out and focused her attention on the smoke and flashes on the horizon. She felt her pulse quicken in anticipation, and she strained to get another few fractions of a knot out of her engines.

A few minutes later it was clear that Wyoming hadn't been exaggerating about the show.

Rhode Island watched in astonishment as the Nevada sisters and West Virginia wove through a series of radical turns, each between 90 and 180 degrees, while their main batteries fired off thunderous half-battery salvos towards a set of targets that ranged from 15,000 to more than 30,000 yards away. Despite the turns that would have ruined any fire control solution with the vintage of equipment Rhode Island had, the shells were bracketing and landing hits on the maneuvering targets almost from the first salvo. The splashes were something else new, each one colored differently from a dye bag, and each shipgirl had her own color. Nevada's shells sent up orange splashes, Oklahoma's shells colored the splashes green, and West Virginia's were the regular white.

The exercise had lasted less than twenty minutes, but in that time all of the targets had been battered into so much floating debris by the accurate fire.

As the three older battleships made their way towards the new arrivals, Washington stepped up to the metaphorical plate. She elevated her nine sixteen inch rifles to fire at a target more than 36,000 yards away. By her math, Rhode Island estimated that the shells would in the air for more than a minute. One after another, the mighty guns roared as Washington threw herself into maneuvers just as extreme as the Standards had, laughing all the while.

While the big battleship demonstrated her prowess, Arkansas came up closer to Rhode Island. "Good show huh?"

"It's incredible"

"Just wait until you see a real battle. That's a sight to behold." She glanced over and said, "Don't be so nervous. I'm sure you'll do great once you're out there."

"I hope so…"

"Rhodie!" Nevada shouted over the din of 16-inch rifles, "Quit jawing! No one gets paid for bringing targets back in one piece!" She pointed to another set of target rafts off to the south, motoring in a loose formation about 9,000 yards away. At that range, Rhode Island could see that the targets were actually sized like conventional gunnery targets.

"I thought that Abyssals were smaller than that…"

Wyoming explained, "When a shipgirl fires at an Abyssal, her shells act like the Abyssal was a full-sized ship. So if your aim is good, you'll get solid hits even though they're so small relatively speaking."

"That's..."

"Strange?" Nevada broke in, " After everything you've seen in the last, what, day in a half? Magically being able to hit an Abyssal is strange? "

"Well, when you put it that way..." Rhode Island looked out towards the puttering targets. Slowly, hesitatingly, she elevated her main battery guns while Nevada laid out the requirements of the engagement.

"Director fire, maximum twenty rounds per gun, no closer than eight thousand yards to target, no required maneuvers."

Rhode Island paused, swallowed nervously. Then she mentally gave the command to fire.

Six sixteen inch fifty caliber naval rifles roared as one, lofting six 2,110 pound shells into the sky.

Subject to the ballistics of their launch, guided by the best equipment of the early 1920s, the shells missed entirety. Smacking into the water several hundred yards short of the largest target.

Rhode Island methodically went through the process of adjusting her guns as another six shells and 36 bags of powder were rammed home in her turrets. The entire operation took nearly a minute, then she fired again. This salvo splashed less than two hundred yards behind the target. As she set about reloading, Oklahoma spoke up.

"Try half salvos!"

"What?"

"One turret at a time!"

As Rhode Island kept firing, Wyoming turned to face Nevada and Oklahoma, "What do you think of her?"

"I've certainly seen worse," Nevada said. "But-"

"Ooh, that was a wild one!" Oklahoma pointed to a splash that was several hundred yards short of the rest of the pattern, which actually made it to the general area of the target, within 100 yards.

"I remember when we had to deal with those," Nevada shook her head. "It's weird with her since there's... Nothing."

"Nothing?" Wyoming pressed.

"About her. No past history or anything, she just... Is now." She shrugged, "I like her though, she gives me a good feeling."

Wyoming looked out to where Rhode Island's shells were just now landing the odd hit on one of the rafts, "She seems to be a quick study. Do you know her assignment yet?"

"Key West as soon as you give your approval."

Wyoming nodded, "Nice and easy for her first real post."

* * *

 **Notes:**

Hunter-Killer Group

1* Casablanca class - Shipley Bay (CVE-85)

12 TBM

9 FM-2

3* Destroyer Escorts

1* Fletcher class

Surface ships might have traumatized Gambier Bay, but Shipley Bay has no such hangups.

The WNT left more than a few ships without some or most of their classmates, such as Kaga, Akagi, Lexington and Saratoga, the Colorados, etc. Plus many more classes that were never even close to being finished, like the South Dakotas, the G3 and N3 classes, Tosa and Kii and Amagi, and probably some that I'm missing.

The target rafts are drone boats, topped by an inflatable target balloon. They can be controlled remotely, or sail in preprogrammed formations.

Wild shorts are the result of a shell traveling in the wake of other shells, which results in increased drag, and the shell falling short. It is also possible for shells to collide in the air, which has similar results.


	5. Chapter 5

The next week passed quickly, most of it a haze of training and lectures that she desperately tried to retain. Washington had left on Tuesday, West Virginia the day after. Thursday and Friday were taken up with the modernization of her rig. Then the weekend, especially Sunday, was a welcome respite.

Now it was Monday, and time for her first practical lessons with Wyoming. Seated in the otherwise empty classroom, Rhode Island watched as the training shipgirl paced back and forth behind the desk.

"Aircraft are one of your most dangerous enemies. It was airpower that crushed the Japanese in the war, and while battleships have viability these days, they can still sink you. To that end, you have been equipped with a varied battery of weaponry to dispose of aircraft." Wyoming pointed to a large diagram projected onto the wall behind her, depicting a redheaded shipgirl on the bottom left side with several large arcs stretching from her out towards the right.

"Today, you'll learn the capabilities of each and every one of your weapon systems. Their ranges, rates of fire, effective damage output, and there will be a quiz."

Rhode Island gulped nervously and started scratching down notes as Wyoming launched into her full lecture. Her friendly demeanor and tone were gone now, replaced with a downright strict dedication to drilling every aspect of anti-aircraft gunnery into Rhode Island's head.

After what seemed like an hour of lecture just on the 5''/38, Rhode Island stole a glance at the clock. Scarcely thirty minutes had passed. She suppressed a groan, today was going to be very, very long.

* * *

 **Yokosuka, Japan**

 **Homeport of the New Combined Fleet,**

An unfamiliar calm had settled over the base. The offensives in the Gilbert Islands had drawn the bulk of the fleet far away from the home islands. Without a few scores of shipgirls to wrangle, and the ones that were around too busy to get up to anything, it was actually pretty lonely. At least he had lots of time to work on everything else that tended to pile up.

Then someone knocked on his door.

"It's open."

To his surprise, Ooyodo stepped into his office, apprehensively holding a bundle of papers. She stopped in front of his desk at attention, "Sir!"

"What is it Ooyodo?"

"W-well I received a message from Akashi earlier today," Ooyodo said as she placed the bundle of paper on his desk. "It's about an experiment that was performed at Newport, she just got the report this morning and said she was going to send it to you."

Goto picked up the bundle and started reading the title, "On the deliberate summoning of shipgirls-" He stopped, processing what he had just read. Through four years of war against the Abyssals, shipgirls had only appeared at seemingly random times, and in very specific locations. The same held true for shipgirls that had been sunk and returned later. Being able to directly summon them...

"There is more." Ooyodo interrupted his thoughts, " The second part is what I really wanted to speak to you about."

Goto looked down at the second line, "And the summoning of a never-built ship..." Wordlessly, he flipped through the report, until he settled on a photograph of the setup, with the new shipgirl in the center of the frame. Goto numbly set the report down, his mind swirling with the possibilities. So many Japanese ships had been canceled before their keels were even laid, so many others were never even finished. Then he realized why Ooyodo was so nervous about bringing this to his attention.

At one time, there would have been two ships of the class. Niyodo, Ooyodo's sister ship, was never even laid down. Beyond her, there were other ships that were scrapped on their slips, or designed and never built, enough to enlarge the fleet to embark on larger offensives to accelerate the destruction of the Abyssal menace.

"I'm sure that we can arrange setting up a pool like this soon."

"Thank you sir!" Ooyodo said, bowing until her head was level with her knees.

"If it's alright, I would like to keep this report to read through it. Get a better idea of how to make this plan work. You're free to go."

"Yes sir, thank you Admiral."

Once Ooyodo had departed, Goto picked the report back up and started reading from the beginning. All the while contemplating the possibilities of Newport's latest offering.

* * *

 **South of Newport,**

After two and a half days of lecture and quizzing by Wyoming, Rhode Island had been looking forward to the practical, live fire instruction. But that was before Shipley Bay had loosed her aircraft at her, loaded down with practice weapons and eager to get their aim in.

First, she had to evade dozens of inert torpedoes and dummy bombs dropped from the Avengers and Wildcats, which pressed their attacks to the last second with the absence of AA fire. Then she had to shoot down a swarm of target drones that were entirely focused on avoiding her guns, then she had to run from even more practice weapons. All while under the scrutiny of Wyoming

Rhode Island swerved, narrowly dodging a torpedo as it churned through the water, inadvertently running right into the path of another. It struck her foot dead on, knocking it from beneath her, sending Rhode Island to her knees and bringing her to a halt. Then a Wildcat dropped a 500-lb practice bomb onto her head. The inert weapon split apart upon impact, but it was enough. Rhode Island cried in pain and covered her head as the rest of the Avengers swooped down towards her, bomb bay doors open.

Then they broke off, Rhode Island heard their engines recede into the distance as they plotted their course back to Shipley Bay. Slowly and tearfully she looked up to see Wyoming standing in front of her, hands on her hips as she watched the aircraft leave. Then she turned and hauled Rhode Island to her feet, "That's enough of that. Ahh..." Wyoming wiped a small trickle of blood from Rhode Island's face, "Enough for today I think. Let's get you back to the docks, we can go over this once you're patched up."

Sniffling, Rhode Island nodded and fell in behind Wyoming.

 **Norfolk, Virginia,**

Headquarters of the West Atlantic Command,

Norfolk had come a long way since the first Abyssal attacks, becoming the centerpiece of a sprawling series of fortifications at the base of the Chesapeake Bay. Despite more than eleven major attacks after A-Day, Abyssal forces hadn't gotten into the bay proper since the war started.

Admiral Briggs strode into the central command room, buried under several meters of dirt and reinforced concrete. The far wall was taken up by a massive screen that displayed the east coast of North America from north of Halifax all the way down to the northern coast of Cuba, and as far east as the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Dozens of icons representing everything from convoys, known Abyssal contacts, long-term recon drones like the Albatrosses, and other items of interest slowly tracked their way across the display as their positions were updated.

One of them got Briggs's attention, a single red contact about 1,200 miles east of Halifax, a contact that was simply a question mark. An unknown Abyssal contact.

"Good morning sir," Newberry said as she got up from her desk. The Haskell attack transport was one of many shipgirls who had returned that weren't actual combatants, but who had found a new calling. Newberry was Briggs personal assistant, responsible for ensuring that his orders were carried out by humans and shipgirls alike. She also often took night watches in the command center so that she could make the briefings and reports for the daytime watches.

"Good morning to you too, what is that?" Briggs pointed to the question mark.

"A U-Boat patrol made contact with it at long range, but they came under heavy fire from…" She grabbed the printout of the report from her desk, "They say that they were 'At least eight-inch guns.'"

"Were any of them hit?" Even though they were shipgirls, it still didn't seem right to send them out alone into the Atlantic.

"No, but they weren't able to get close enough to make a better classification. The report came in at 1740 our time."

"Thank you, Newberry," Briggs heaved a sigh. Today was going to be a long one, "Did anything else happen last night?"

"No sir. I did get a few albatross drones diverted to sweep the path of the unknown, and the warnings and alerts went out a bit after nine last night."

"Good work." Briggs watched the circle of probability for the mystery contact grow larger. At the typical 35 knots, an Abyssal cruiser could vanish into the ocean in a matter of hours, only to reappear and wreak havoc where it showed its face again. The green traces of the Albatross drones put them several hours out from the last known position. "Keep me informed, and let's hope it's nothing new."

"I will sir."

* * *

 **Newport Docks,**

As it turned out, Wyoming wasn't inclined to wait for very long. As soon as she was out of the repair berth and dressed, Wyoming had all but dragged Rhode Island over to a waiting area and sat her down at one of the tables. Wyoming pulled out her laptop and started pulling something up on it, then she said, "You were pretty close out there. But you aren't using your technical advantages to the full extent."

"What do you mean?"

"These." Wyoming knocked on Rhode Island's knee, "You're turboelectric. Do you know what that means for you?" Rhode Island shook her head, and Wyoming went on, turning her laptop to show the plan that gave form to Rhode Island. "It means that you can go from full ahead to full reverse and back again instantly, and you can reverse one side while going ahead on the other. You can maneuver like a champion if you throw everything into it."

"But what if that damage-"

"Would it be worse than getting gutted by a torpedo?" Wyoming asked rhetorically. "Shipgirls can hurt themselves by pushing themselves too hard, but almost one hundred percent of the time it isn't as bad as taking a hit from a bomb or a torpedo. You can't be timid or hesitating when things are trying to kill you"

"I see." Rhode Island squared her shoulders, "I'm ready to try again!"

"Not today." Wyoming stood and looked out the glass doors, the red light of the sunset was fading by the second. "We'll go over evasive tactics and positioning again. I'll see if Shipley Bay ended up knocking that out of you."

* * *

 **Norfolk, Virginia**

 **Shipgirl Quarters,**

West Virginia looked down at her phone. Colorado and Maryland had been silent for several seconds, and the tension was trying her limited patience. Finally, Maryland spoke up.

"I'm in favor of it." A moment later Colorado gave the answer that West Virginia had been hoping for.

"Same."

West Virginia spoke in a rush, "When can you get to Norfolk? I'll handle the approvals and-."

"I'm sorry West," Colorado's voice was filled with regret as she went on. "But we're committed over here for now. The Gilbert campaign is just too important." West Virginia's heart sank, though she understood that the joint operation had been in the works for months, having to wait galled her.

"Alright. But we're doing it as soon as you get to the states again!"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything" Maryland replied. "We'll be seeing you before too long. Love you."

West Virginia smiled, "Love you too. Goodbye."

"Goodbye West." Colorado got out just before the call ended. West Virginia looked up from her phone to the photo she kept on her desk of the three sisters, taken the first time they had all met since they had returned.

Colorado had the closest connection to Washington of course, being built side-by-side with their absent sister. West Virginia had seen the photos Colorado kept of them, back when they were hulls of steel. Not being able to summon Washington right now had to bother her more than it did West Virginia.

She shook her head and plugged her phone into its charger, then she got up and turned to her bed. If Washington had already waited a century, a few more weeks wouldn't change much.

* * *

 **South of Newport,**

Rhode Island flinched as the practice torpedo knocked against her foot. Shipley Bay's torpedo bombers had gotten lucky again. She bent down and plucked the crumpled torpedo from the water and looked at it dejectedly. Between the destroyers and the Avengers, her feet had been thoroughly battered by the inert tin fish.

Then she heard Wyoming clapping from behind her, "That was impressive."

Rhode Island spun around, "But it still hit me!"

"That's the point of how the torpedo attack is structured, it's supposed to be almost impossible to evade all of the weapons." Wyoming plucked one of the torpedoes that had missed from the water as it churned past her and studied it, "It was still a good effort." She tossed the torpedo back into the water, "I've got a message for you, the Commodore told me to give it to you after we were done for the morning. Here." Wyoming pulled a sealed envelope from her pocket and handed it to the incredulous Rhode Island. She ripped it open and pulled out the letter, reading it with increasing excitement.

"I'm going to Florida?"

"Seems like it," Wyoming crossed her arms and frowned. "Personally I'd like to keep you doing drills for a few more days, but you have your orders, and I have to get to San Diego by Thursday."

"I have a real posting!" Rhode Island giddily skated a circle around Wyoming, clutching the letter to her chest.

"Calm down, and listen." Wyoming's sharp tone brought Rhode Island to a halt, "The Caribbean is an easy post, but you have to take it seriously. If you get sloppy or lazy, the next thing you know you'll get one of those going down your throat." Wyoming pointed to a spent torpedo that was bobbing on the surface nearby, "If you're lucky you'll land in the docks for a few weeks, at worst you end up sunk."

Rhode Island swallowed nervously, her elation dampened. "I understand."

"Good." Wyoming's expression softened, "I've seen more than a few shipgirls I've trained end up in bad shape because they got sloppy, and I don't want the same to happen to you."

"Thank you," Rhode Island refolded the letter and tucked it into her shirt. "What else do you want to do today?"

"I'd keep my eyes high if I were you," Wyoming smiled as she pointed at the sky, and the half dozen Avengers buzzing in circles above them. "And start running."

* * *

 **Notes:**

Many shipgirl sisterhoods will be growing larger now.

The redheaded shipgirl on the diagram is a chibi Arizona, and it's something that I'll draw eventually because it sounds cute.

Turboelectric engines are kind of cool when you read about the stuff that ships with them did. Full ahead to full reverse to full ahead again inside of five minutes!


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, we've landed."

Rhode Island jolted awake and looked around in a daze. She was still inside the airplane, but what had-

"You passed out as soon as we started to taxi," Arkansas explained. Rhode Island looked over at the other shipgirl seated beside her. Arkansas was looking directly ahead, her face was pale, her eyes were red, and she had dark bags under them. "It happens to everyone." She looked up at the ceiling and muttered, "Shipgirls were never meant to fly…"

Slowly, Rhode Island unbuckled her seat belt and tried to stand up. But it was like all the strength has left her body and she slid off her seat onto the floor. One of the other passengers offered her a hand and helped her back onto the seat.

"Just take a few minutes," Arkansas said. "No sense rushing things, try some deep breathing. That might help."

Sure enough, the symptoms that had overwhelmed her subsided and Rhode Island was able to walk off the C-20 under her own power. She squinted in the sudden bright light for a few moments, the warm sea air of the Florida Keys washed over her, and the autumn sun bore down on Boca Chica Key and Naval Air Station Key West.

* * *

The Florida Keys had weathered the dark early days of the Abyssal war well, being small enough to avoid attack until they had been warned of what was coming. Thousands had been evacuated by air, road, and ship before the Abyssals had fallen upon the islands. Even with the gradual turnaround of the war, there were still visable signs of the war everywhere. From the newly constructed and patched up buildings, to the obvious patches in the runways, to the armed marines and sailors on standing guard or patrolling the perimeter of the station.

Rhode Island kept pace with Arkansas as the older shipgirl strode around the nose of the airplane to the cargo hatch in the right side, where their riggings and other luggage had were being unloaded. As soon as the two rolling racks were out, Arkansas grabbed hers and started towards the fence that closed in the runway area. Rhode Island did the same and followed.

Past the fence and armed marine sentries was a parking lot, and a bright red truck that Arkansas unlocked with something on her key ring. She dropped the tailgate, pulled a ramp down from inside the bed, and rolled her rigging up into the bed. Then she turned back to Rhode Island, "Get it on up here, it's farther than I feel like walking." She jumped from the tailgate as Rhode Island pushed her rigging up into the bed, then she stowed the ramp and closed the tailgate. As Arkansas went for the driver's seat, Rhode Island went for the passenger door.

Rhode Island's face was practically glued to the window as Arkansas drove west, despite there not being much to look at aside from salty lagoon on the north side of the road. A few minutes of driving later, the truck slowed to a stop beside a new building on the western edge of Boca Chica Key. "Welcome to your new home," Arkansas shut off the truck and stepped outside. Immediately a dozen small shipgirls ran from the building, clearly destroyers of some kind. Arkansas swept three of them up in a hug as they gathered around her. Then they noticed Rhode Island, stopped for a second, then swarmed towards her, chattering excitedly.

"Who are you?"

"What's your name?"

"What are you?"

"Girls!" Arkansas said chidingly, "Rhode Island is… new. And she will be staying here with us for a while." The destroyers cheered as they all but dragged Rhode Island into the building. She looked to Arkansas for aid, but she was occupied unloading the rigging from the back of the truck.

* * *

The questions and introductions continued for several more minutes as the destroyers dragged Rhode Island to a chair and kept her hemmed in. She was sure she had told them her name at least half a dozen times when a new person walked into the room. He wore an officer's service khaki uniform with the bars of a captain on his shoulders, the nameplate on his chest bore the name Rosecrans, and he made his way with the help of a black wooden cane.

As he walked over, the group of destroyers parted and scattered. Rhode Island jumped up and looked up at the officer, who had at least twelve inches on her. Captain Rosecrans stopped in front of Rhode Island and looked down at her inquisitively, "Would you happen to be Rhode Island?"

"Y-yes, sir!"

He smiled warmly, "It's good to have you with us. Well, come on then." He turned around and started towards a staircase, "You need to get up to speed on the situation, and I know that you didn't get anything on the plane."

"Where are we going, sir?"

"The day is nice, and I want to take advantage of it when I can."

The roof was flat and had been turned into a pleasant multi-use area with some sort of sheds on one side, a large open area in the middle, and several sets of tables and chairs around the perimeter that were covered by a shade. Rosecrans made his way to the south side and sat down, looking out over the ocean. Rhode Island stopped a few feet away and stayed standing.

"We have a large area of responsibility down here Rhode Island," Rosecrans waved to the ocean, dotted with a few small boats. "The US Navy carries the bulk of securing the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea from Abyssal attacks. That's more than one and a half million square miles of ocean, with more than a thousand islands between them. Not counting the coastlines of more than fifteen nations. We're lucky that the Abyssals are mostly being held up other places."

He looked back at Rhode Island, "But if what I've been hearing from Norfolk is true, that might not last much longer." He pulled a folded piece of paper from a pocket and handed it to her, "They're looking for something, and I hope they find it before it becomes our problem."

* * *

 **Norfolk, Virginia,**

The control center for the swarm of UAVs that patrolled the ocean reminded Briggs of the CIC of a missile cruiser. It was fully staffed with more than thirty men and women whose responsibility was to manage the wanderings of the drones towards to keep them in areas that their monitoring equipment would be useful. Most of the time it was fairly lively, with many Abyssals being monitored, or convoys being screened by the enduring aircraft.

Today the mood was very different, and the tension could be felt instantly. Conversations were hushed where they happened at all, and every screen showed essentially the same thing. Empty ocean.

Briggs paused behind one of the stations, looked over the drone pilot's shoulder and asked, "Anything?"

"No sir, nothing at all." He shook his head, "No debris, no slicks, nothing. It's like it just fell off the Earth."

"Keep at it." Briggs turned away and started towards the door of drone control when the pilot shouted in surprise, he turned around in time to see something breaking the choppy surface of the Atlantic.

In a matter of moments, it fully emerged from the deep. She was an Abyssal, clearly a submarine, and most significantly, she was big.

"Holy- I haven't seen anything that size since the I-400s!" The pilot said as he started searching through the Abyssal ID guide. The Abyssal looked up at the Albatross drone, and opened fire. The camera feed filled with puffs of flack before it cut out. Silence dominated the room as 'SIGNAL LOST' blinked on the screen.

The silence was broken after several moments when Newberry asked, "What happened?"

"It shot the albatross down," the pilot said as he removed his headset. He looked at the admiral and his assistant, "There's nothing like it in the book at all."

"So what the hell was it?" Another pilot asked.

"Well," The pilot of the lost drone pulled up the last few seconds of footage on the screen. He hit pause just at the point where the Abyssal had looked up at the drone. It was the same corpse-white that all Abyssals were, bigger than most destroyers, and carried a quartet of hulking turrets that sprouted from its back. The expression on its face was inscrutable. "I don't really know."

Another pilot said, "Surcouf?" Newberry shook her head, her eyes locked on the screen.

"She only has one turret, and the French have had her since January." She turned to Briggs, "Sir, what do you-"

"Where is the closest hunter-killer group?"

"Bougainville's group is already heading into the area, but she's at least three hours out from aircraft range. Mission Bay is down by Cape Canaveral now, but she's still convalescing after that torpedo, uhh… Anzio should be able to have aircraft in the area in less than six hours."

"Moving more albatrosses to the area now," another pilot reported from her station. "Sir, after that I think that we should move them higher."

"Do it. I need to make some calls."

As Briggs and Newberry departed the control center, one of the pilots said.

"We don't have any idea what this thing can do though, by then it could be long gone!"

"No, no sub that big can run very fast, even on the surface."

The door closed behind Briggs and Newberry as the room descended into a debate on the Abyssal's capabilities. In the hall, Briggs turned to Newberry, "Do you know anyone who could get us something sort of information on that thing?"

"Perhaps. I'll need to call Newport, they've been working with a lot of material like that for their recent 'project'."

"Do it, do whatever you have to." He shook his head as they walked back towards the command center, "I don't like this at all Newberry. Not at all."

"Who else are you going to call?"

"Washington. They have something new, and everyone needs to know about it."

* * *

 **Boco Chico Key,**

"I do think you'll like it down here though," Rosecrans said cheerily. "Warm water, fresh seafood, lots of friendly people wherever they still are, and a bunch of shipgirls you'll be working with. Speaking of which." The captain pointed with his cane at a balloon that was closing in on the building. Rhode Island had seen it as soon as she arrived on the roof, but now she looked at it more closely, and was shocked to see a person seated in a sort of chair that hung below the balloon with a pair of engines on each side that drove it through the air.

The balloonist waved at them as the apparatus swooped overhead and settled over the open patch on the roof. She took a cable and tossed it like a lasso over a part of one of the sheds and pulled it taught as the engines shut down. The whole balloon settled until it was just a few feet from the roof, then the pilot jumped down from her perch.

She landed in a crouch, then got up and ran over to the two observers. Skidding to a stop, she saluted Rosecrans and stood at attention, giving Rhode Island a good look at her. The pilot girl was well fed, with her exposed skin a moderate tan, sandy hair under a leather cap with goggles, bright green eyes, and wearing clothing that was entirely new to Rhode Island.

The base was a sort of shiny silver, skin-tight suit that covered the girl from neck to feet, which were otherwise bare. Over that were some abbreviated tan clothes, a shirt that showed a great deal and a skirt. On her right wrist was a compact sort of turret blister with a single machine gun protruding from it. Embroidered on the right breast of the shirt was the number '82'.

"Welcome back K-82, anything interesting?"

The pilot, apparently named K-82, dropped her salute and shook her head. "Nothing out of the usual sir," she side-eyed Rhode Island. "Until now."

"This is Rhode Island, she's a new battleship that will be here for a while." It was unsettling to be on the receiving end of the balloon girl's gaze, and it took a moment to realize that she didn't blink both eyes at once. First her right eye, then her left eye, never totally blocking her sight. After a few moments, she extended a hand and said, "It's good to meet you."

Rhode Island took it, "It's good to meet you too."

"I have to secure my rig, so I guess I'll see you around." With another mistimed blink, K-82 spun on her heel and walked back to her balloon rig. Rhode Island looked at Rosecrans,

"What is she?"

"K-82 is a K-Class anti-submarine blimp girl, we have five of them that operate from this station. K-13, 45, 82, and 128, the last two are still on patrol over the strait and should be back in the next few hours. Thirteen should be downstairs."

Rhode Island watched K-82 as she started to pull the balloon and seat down and into one of the sheds, "Are there more shipgirls like them?"

"Yes." Rosecrans said as his phone chimed, "Most airship girls are American, but the Russians have a handful too. Then there are submarines, torpedo boats, lots of merchant shipgirls…" He trailed off when he saw who was calling, "K-82, I'm going to need you to show Rhode Island around. This can't wait."

"Can do sir!"

While Captain Rosecrans started his call, Rhode Island walked over to where K-82 was working with her shed and rig. She watched as the blimp girl pulled her rig into the shelter with the rope from before, "do you need any help?"

"I'm good, " K-82 replied as she finished pulled her rigging inside. "We're able to do it ourselves, thanks for offering though." She deftly lashed the cord to a ring in the floor before walking back out into the sunlight. "So, you're a battleship of some kind?"

"I am-"

"What class are you? 'cause I don't think I've ever seen anything that looks like you 'cept for Graff Spee."

Slightly taken aback, Rhode Island replied. "I'm new. I was summoned in Newport." K-82 raised an eyebrow,

"You were 'summoned'?"

"I was never built, but they used a drawing of a possible ship in the ceremony."

"You're leading me on," K-82 said flatly as she turned around. "It's impossible to have a shipgirl who was never even commissioned."

The blimp girl's tone touched on something Rhode Island hadn't known she'd had, she grabbed K-82's shoulder and growled. "But I just told you-"

"Ow!" K-82 shrank away, rubbing her shoulder. "Jeez you're strong, I might be wrong okay?" Rhode Island stepped back, her anger suddenly evaporated.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Eh," K-82 shrugged. "Don't worry about it, we're a bit fragile anyway. So, you were serious? You're literally brand new?"

"Yes, I am."

"That's cool." She turned around again and walked off towards the stairs, "Commander wants me to show you your new place, so come on." Rhode Island, still slightly thrown by K-82s shifts in attitude, followed. Distantly she heard Captain Rosecrans ask about how big something was.

* * *

K-82 had descended a level, then walked out onto an enclosed porch that encircled the building and led Rhode Island around to the north side. Someone had already dropped her bag, a small green duffel, in front of a solid door that was painted green.

"Here you are." K-82 waved at the door and kept walking around the building, "It should be unlocked."

"Where are…" Rhode Island trailed off as K-82 turned the corner. She stood in front of her door for a moment before shaking her head, "I'll ask later I guess."

The door was heavy, with a high threshold that she almost tripped over before she got inside. She recovered and looked around her new room. The entryway opened into a living room with a couch, a table, some chairs, a bare bookshelf, and a television. Light came from the windows beside the door, and from the ceiling fan in the center of the ceiling. The walls were a very sterile white, and there were two doors on the right side, with a bathroom and a bedroom visible through them.

She walked over into the bedroom, with its single neatly-made bed, nightstand with lamp, dresser, and closet all showing the signs of recent care. She set her bag down on the bed and started to unpack, her uniforms, letters and notes from the shipgirls at Newport, a book about rules procedures for shipgirls in the service, and the phone she had been issued. Rhode Island stepped back and looked at the small spread of items on the sheets, then she looked around the sparseness of the room.

Apprehension started to gnaw at her gut. _What am I doing here? I've existed for less than a month and I'm hundreds of miles from home, in a new place to do a job where I could die! This is madness! There was no way I can-_

Just then she heard a knock at her door, derailing her thoughts. "I'll be right there!" She called as she ran to the front door and pushed it open. Arkansas was leaning against a support post outside, and she cracked a smile at Rhode Island.

"How do you like the place?"

"It's very nice if a bit big."

"Well that's part of why I'm here," Arkansas straitened up and jerked her thumb to the west, at the island of Key West. "If you're feeling up to it, we could go over and see about getting you some decorations, see some sights, get a bite, have a time."

"I think I would like that."

* * *

The sun was a shrinking ball on the horizon when Rhode Island trudged back into her room. Arkansas seemed to be on a first-name basis with everyone on the island who interacted with the public or ran a restaurant, and she knew how to give a tour. From the old naval base, the aquarium, the wrecking museum in all its morbid glory, and the lighthouse with its reassuring purpose. Then there was the shopping, which took a while.

Rhode Island flushed red when the remembered the sorts of things that had been in the windows of the stores. Scandalous things. She shook her head, it had taken a while but eventually they had found a place to get some suitably appropriate- Well she could get used to them at least.

As she went about putting her new clothes away and thought about what would come in the next few days. The captain had certainly seemed concerned about something, but no one else she had seen appeared to be worried. Rhode Island shrugged and kept on organizing her room. Then the apprehension crept in again, _If that was too much, then what can I do when I have to fight? Why should I even do this?_

Unbidden, the lighthouse came to mind and the people who were there. They had suffered a rough time in the war, with the museum not drawing many people since the war started. But they kept the grounds open, because of what had transpired there, where regular men and women had put everything on the line to keep others safe. They kept the grounds open in honor of the memory of those that had given everything, even their own lives, in the service of others.

If regular people could stand against the storms for more than 180 years, then she, Rhode Island, could stand against the Abyssals. And if she could, then she would do it for as long as she could.

* * *

 **Notes:**

I've been to Key West, and the NSFW store window displays were real. Now I don't know if they're a common thing, but I can never forget. And the wrecking museum, being all about salvaging the wrecks of cargo ships off the reefs, would be a very morbid place to visit for a shipgirl.

The solid doors and high thresholds are for hurricanes, being durable enough to now blow open, block debris, and not let water in easily. They also hurt like the dickens to be hit with.

The Key West Lighthouse is an interesting place to visit, as are pretty much all lighthouse museums.


	7. Chapter 7

**Near the Bahama Bank,**

The waxing moon crawled up from the horizon as a formation of shipgirls plied the warm waters of the eastern Caribbean Sea. They were five in number, four were destroyers, all small four-pipers of WWI vintage and armed with nothing larger than their 4" guns and 21" torpedo tubes. With them was a small battleship, the only one of her type.

From the top of her mast, the unblinking eye of Rhode Island's surface search radar painted ethereal shapes of Long Island and the Cays that marked the edge of the Great Bahama Bank. A few fishing boats scattered across the Bank were the only mobile contacts that they had seen for the last several hours.

As the time slid by, Rhode Island thought back to the events of the last two days that set them on this patrol.

* * *

 **Briefing Room, NAS Key West**

 **0732 Local Time,**

The butterflies were fluttering in Rhode Island's gut as she sat down for her first real intelligence briefing. After the last shipgirls had sat down, the lights went out, and a new officer took the podium.

"I hope everyone has had a good morning so far because this might just change that." He turned on a slide show, with the title, 'Abyssal Contact: Unknown Type'.

A wave of murmuring swept through the room and grew louder when the next slide went up. On one side was a photo of an Abyssal looking up at the camera that had taken the photo, armed with four large turrets on its back. On the other side was a drawing of a submarine with the caption 'Cruiser Submarine Type#2 Armored'.

"Based on current information, we believe that this Abyssal is derived from this design. Eight guns comparable to heavy cruisers, which are believed to be eight-inch guns at this time. Eight torpedo tubes, room for four aircraft, and most unusually it probably has as much as two inches of armor over parts of its hull."

Dallas raised her hand, "That thing... Wasn't ever built by anyone. Was it?"

"No, it wasn't. "

Rhode Island felt the gazes of the people behind her on her back. She slid down in her chair but kept looking at the projected slide. A chill crept down her spine as she contemplated what she had just heard, and it became worse when she heard the next thing that was said.

"There hasn't been a confirmed Abyssal based off a never built ship, that is correct."

Now people who were in front of her were stealing glances back at her, fearful and suspicious ones. She shrank down in her chair more, trying to hide under the table. Then Arkansas, seated at the back of the room, stood up and cleared her throat.

"Pardon me," her tone was calm but held a measure of menace. "I apologize for the interruption, but it seems that something is distracting more than a few people. It would be best for them if they paid attention to this information."

"Not a problem at all Arkansas. Now, we came to the worst bit. This came from an Albatross drone," The man clicked to the next slide, which was a paused video. He pressed play.

The Abyssal rose from under the waves, looked up at the drone, and opened fire. Just as the first burst of AA fire appeared, the video stopped. Immediately several people spoke up with something akin to:

"It shot at an albatross?"

"That it did, that and its ability to force through the attempted cordon in the Atlantic indicates that it is, in fact, an intelligent Abyssal." The room went silent at that, and Rhode Island thought back to the week of classroom time she had back in Newport.

Intelligent. Unlike the majority of Abyssals, some of them were apparently really sapient, being really self-aware. They were increasingly uncommon though since there was an apparent requirement for an Abyssal to be really intelligent.

They were the ones who had the spirits of actual ships.

Full Abyssal shipgirls were often the centerpieces of their battle groups, not only commanding the force but multiplying their effectiveness in battle. They were the things that led the Abyssals through their string of victories in the first year of the war.

"Currently there are several hunter-killer groups converging on this Abyssal, but just in case it was decided to brief all of you about it. With any luck, this won't become our problem. Any more questions? No? Alright then, you're all dismissed."

* * *

 **Norfolk, Virginia,**

Briggs stood up from his desk after reading the report for the third time. Bougainville and her hunter-killer group had been ambushed by the Abyssal, on the surface. Halford had driven it off, but the first report made it sound like she'd be out of action for at least four months. Then there was a laundry list of damage to the rest of the group, though not as bad as Halford.

He walked to the window that looked out onto the control center, and the large screen on the wall. The engagement had been plotted already, and the course was clear.

The Abyssal was going to try and get into the Caribbean. There were hundreds of possible targets in there, oil infrastructure, cargo terminals, and regular people who were living under the sword of Damocles and didn't even realize it. Briggs turned around and grabbed the phone from his desk, punching in the number for the Southern Command.

* * *

The briefing room was packed for the second time in as many days, but this time the man in the spotlight was Rosecrans himself.

"The news from Norfolk is not good. The Abyssal seems to have slipped the cordon and is moving towards us, and the weather has not cooperated." As he said that, a meteorological map of the East Coast went up on the screen, with a radar image of a large storm in the center.

"It's not a hurricane right now, but it has gotten stronger over the last four hours, and it due to make landfall on Florida in less than eight hours. This means that carriers can't operate and without their aircraft, the cordon is nigh worthless with so much area to cover. Then there is worse news.

Some of you might have worked with Bougainville and her group-"

"What?" One of the destroyers shouted, her voice cracking.

"They're alive, but have been injured by the Abyssal. But this thing was able to evade until it was well inside gun range, which should give you an idea of what we're up against."

* * *

Rhode Island looked at the assignment board and searched for her name, finding it on the far right of the board. Four other names were listed underneath it, each followed by a DD-X designation. Someone slapped her back,

"Looks like you're moving up in the world." Arkansas said with a wide smile, "Little task force of your own."

"But I've never lead anything like this!"

"Here," Arkansas pointed to the list. "You see Dallas? Goff? Those two are plenty experienced, even in surface engagements from a couple years back. They'll give good advice, but you're still going to have to be the one to act on it."

"I'm still not sure…"

Someone spoke up from behind Rhode Island, "Hello!" Before she could turn, someone even smaller than her had wrapped her arms around her in a hug. Another voice chimed in,

"You'll be in charge?"

She managed to turn around, with the other shipgirl still clinging to her, to see a small shipgirl looking up at her. Tanned skin, green eyes, a shock of blue hair, a white dress, white neckerchief, and epaulets on her shoulders with the number 247 on them. The destroyer already had her rig, four half funnels of each of her upper arms, a backpack with a set of depth charge tracks, torpedo tubes on her shins, and her main gun held in her left hand.

She extended her right hand, "I'm Goff, that's Dallas. It's good to meet you." Rhode Island took the offered hand and shook it.

"It's good to meet you too."

"Don't worry about it, if we run into anything out there, just don't miss when it kicks off." Goff rolled her eyes and started to pry Dallas away from Rhode Island, "Calm down Alex. Please."

"Don't call me that! Anyway, we're going to be with her for so long, shouldn't we get to know her?" Goff sighed,

"Fine." She looked apologetically at Rhode Island, "Do you have time?"

"I think so." Rhode Island looked questioningly at Arkansas, "Right?"

The older battleship shrugged, "Just grab your packet before you go off." Rhode Island nodded and grabbed the manila envelope with her name on it and followed the two destroyers away from the board.

* * *

Rhode Island studied the four shipgirls under her nominal command as the force set out from Key West. Alden, Bainbridge, Alexander Dallas, and Goff were all sister ships, Clemson class destroyers. Despite their small size and advanced age compared to more modern destroyers, they still had the punch to make ignoring them a potentially fatal mistake. Twelve 21'' torpedoes, four 4-inch guns, a mishmash of smaller guns for anti-aircraft, and depth charges to kill submarines.

The other two, Alden and Bainbridge were easy to tell apart. The neckerchiefs that they wore were colored to mark the yard they had been built in. Alden, with her yellow neckerchief, came from the William Cramp & Sons yard in Philadelphia. Dallas's light pink showed that she had come from the mighty Newport News yard, and Goff and Bainbridge's white marked them as ships of the New York Shipbuilding Corporation.

Then they were out of the channel and into the strait, the destroyers formed into a semicircle in front as they churned east towards the Atlantic proper.

* * *

 **The Caribbean Sea,**

The clock ticked over to just past 0130 when the patrol passed by the southern tip of Long Island, gaining line of sight down the thirty-mile wide channel between Long Island and Crooked Island. The point where they would turn around and head back north to Nassau, then back to Key West.

Rhode Island was the first to detect it, a new contact heading towards them, scarcely 1,000 yards of the coast and scarcely 5,000 yards away.

It was not a fishing boat.

The creature was low to the water, hunched over, but only slightly smaller than Rhode Island herself. Its eyes burned a chilling blue and were fixed on the group of shipgirls that had just appeared. The two personifications locked eyes with each other.

Dallas was the first to react, firing her 4'' guns and accelerating to more than 35 knots. A moment later Goff did the same, following her sister towards the Abyssal submarine on a torpedo run. The shots shook Rhode Island out her momentary shock, and the training kicked in. Gun turrets rotated and guns rose, rangefinders locked on, searchlights trained but shuttered, and the indicators of ready guns clicked inside her head.

Her battery of five-inch guns fired first, eight guns firing 55-pound high capacity shells joined the barrage of 4'' shells cascading onto the Abyssal. In a matter of moments, it was obscured by shell splashes and smoke from hits, so thick that even radar wasn't fully accurate.

Then the spray and smoke flashed blue, and twin pillars of water bracketed Dallas. One after the other, the Abyssal fired its twin turrets at the charging tin cans. Eight large shells had churned the water all around, but Dallas kept on, firing the entire time. But the small shells didn't seem to be doing much to the armored hide of the enemy. The Abyssal fired again and scored.

Rhode Island saw the shell punch through Dallas and hit the water far past the destroyer. She watched Dallas look down at the gaping hole through her midsection, then fall to her knees. Goff swung around, interposing herself between the Abyssal and her stricken sister. Rhode Island looked at the Abyssal, apparently untouched by the barrage of shells, and aiming its guns to land the last blow.

Before she fully processed what she was doing, Rhode Island was charging the Abyssal. The range to target plummeted as the two personified warships closed at a combined rate of almost 30 knots.

At the last moment, she realized something.

A submarine would probably have- She kicked the ocean hard as she turned aside, narrowly evading a quartet of deadly torpedoes as they churned through the water. Then blue fire flashed from the Abyssal's guns, the armor piercing shells glancing off or shattering on Rhode Island's armor, but punching through thinner parts and detonating within.

Despite the pain from internal fires and torn steel, Rhode Island pressed on into the storm of eight-inch shells. Then another set of indicators came on, and she grinned savagely as she shouted, "Fire!"

Six, sixteen-inch naval rifles roared as more than two tons of SPD propellent were set alight. The flashes of her titanic guns blinding in the dark, but not enough to obscure what happened when they hit.

One of the Abyssal's turrets was ablaze, and another was simply gone. The holes in the rest of it were hard to see, one thing was clear.

The Abyssal was hurt, it was wounded, it's internal ichor spilling out from the gaping wounds left by the heavy shells.

Rhode Island's grin widened as the Abyssal sub started to drop beneath the surface, then she realized what it was doing. Diving to try and escape.

"You aren't getting away!" She shouted over the din of smaller guns as she lined up on the Abyssal. It looked her dead on again, it's burning blue eyes locked with Rhode Island's for a moment before looking down.

The last thing it saw was Rhode Island's foot swinging towards it.

It is not uncommon for larger ships to overrun smaller ones, sometimes even to the point of slicing the smaller vessel in half with the bow. Something similar happened when Rhode Island connected.

15,200 horsepower drove her into the Abyssal, crumpling her prow, but buckling and tearing through the Abyssal. Open to the ocean, the Abyssal sank out from beneath her into the ichor stained water. Rhode Island turned around, ready to deliver a finishing strike, only to see a churning patch of water with the other two destroyers tossing depth charges around the area. After a few moments, secondary explosions rose from the deep, marking the demise of the Abyssal.

Rhode Island swung around, slowing down to reduce the pressure on her damaged hull. Then she saw the other two destroyers that had been with her.

"Dallas!"

The Clemson class gave a thumbs up as she slowly made her way towards the white sand of Long Island, closely followed by Goff. Alden came up beside her, "That was so cool!"

"What?"

"You just ran up an' kicked it in the head like that!" The destroyer's eyes were shining in the moonlight, "It's like somethin' Borie would do!"

"Thank you…" Rhode Island was feeling the pain of the engagement now, from her broken foot to the half-dozen solid hits she had taken from the Abyssal's guns. She slowly started towards Long Island, "We should radio shouldn't we?"

"I already did." Alden looked down at the crushed toe of Rhode Island's right foot, "Are you okay?"

"I think I'll be fine," Rhode Island replied as reassuringly as she could.

* * *

 **NAS Key West,**

The pain from her wounds had dulled thanks to her own repair efforts on the flight back to Key West, most of it spent slipping in and out of consciousness in the cargo compartment of a V-22. Now she sat in the warm water of the repair dock, which gave her time to think about what had happened.

 _Fighting was fun_. She could almost smell the smoke from her guns, and feel the heat and concussion from the guns on her skin. Even the feeling of bouncing shells off her armor wasn't unpleasant, though she still shuddered at the remembered feeling of shells exploding inside her hull.

There was a knock at the door, and Alden's voice came through it. "Rhodie? You still in there?"

"Yes."

"When you're done, Captain Rosecrans says he needs to talk to you real bad."

"I will."

* * *

 **Notes:**

Dallas [DD-199] (named for Capt. Alexander Dallas) was renamed to Alexander Dallas in 1945 so that CA-150 could take the name of the city. Since CA-150 was canceled before being launched, Dallas has a bitter streak about the whole thing.

USS Borie is a berserker lunatic who wrassled a U-Boat in one of the more out-there stories of the war.

This is the sub in question: Photo # S-584-166 picture data. Something I-400 scale in the 1920s, downright madness.


	8. Chapter 8

**NAS Key West,**

Rhode Island stepped into the conference room and froze. Captain Rosecrans was there yes, but he was the lowest ranked person in the room.

She came to attention and swallowed nervously, "R-Rhode Island reporting!"

"At ease, please." One of them said one who had the rank of admiral on her shoulders. She smiled slightly, "We just have a few questions about your engagement with the Abyssal."

"But I haven't even written a-"

"The report can wait, please have a seat."

Rhode Island complied and took the open chair at the end of the table.

The admiral consulted her notepad, "I will be quick about this. As you should know, the Abyssal that you sank was intelligent and of a type never before seen."

"I did know that."

"In D.C. there are some people who think that you being summoned also lead to the summoning of the Abyssal, what do you have to say about that?"

The small battleship was quiet for a moment. _I don't know. It'd be too much of a coincidence for the first even paper Abyssal to show up as soon as I did, but if it was my-_

"No one is blaming you," Rosecrans said gently. "They just want to know if you have a perspective or some sort of insight on the possibility."

"It doesn't make sense for it to be random," Rhode Island said slowly. "But I don't remember anything like that Abyssal from when I was summoned."

"That is what I expected," the admiral said cheerily. "Now that we have that bit of unpleasantness over with if you could talk about the battle itself?"

* * *

 **Yokosuka, Japan,**

As the last bars of music faded out, Ooyodo stepped forward and offered her hand to the shipgirl who had appeared in the pool. She took the offered hand and stepped up onto the dry ground, blinking in the light before fixing her gaze and asking, "Ooyodo?"

"Yes," the light cruiser blinked back tears as she wrapped her arms around her sister ship. "It's good to see you Niyodo."

"What's going on, I don't remember-" Her voice cracked in alarm, "I can't remember anything!"

"That's fine, we can talk about it." Ooyodo let go of her sister and turned to the waiting assembly of officers and shipgirls, "I think a few introductions are in order first though."

Admiral Goto stepped forward and bowed, "It's an honor to meet you Niyodo." He straightened, "Welcome to Yokosuka." Niyodo automatically bowed in return,

"Thank you, Admiral."

"Ooyodo has gotten a few things ready so you can get acquainted with the modern day."

"What do you mean by that..." Niyodo trailed off, blinked deliberately, then looked at Ooyodo again. Then she said, "You aren't a ship."

"Not anymore, but that's something we can talk about later." Ooyodo took her sister's hand and lead her to the waiting audience, "First there are a lot of people who want to meet you." Immediately, the gathered shipgirls broke ranks and clustered around,

The first one, with short black hair blue eyes, and with a big smile on her face stuck out her hand. "Names' Kako! Nice to meetcha!" Then came a chorus of other introductions. Niyodo swallowed nervously, _what have I been dragged into_?

* * *

Niyodo stood in the doorway of Ooyodo's bedroom, though technically it was also hers now. Her head was spinning from the day, it being her very first was enough of a shock before she'd met so many people and caught up on so much that had happened.

More than seventy years had passed from the last thing she had any awareness of, which was her being canceled. But somehow, she had been called back from wherever she had been residing to fight for Japan as she had never been able to. Someone laid a hand on her shoulder, she turned to see the face of her sister ship, smiling at her.

"Are you alright? You look worried."

"I'll be fine, thank you." She returned the smile, "It's been a lot to take in is all."

"It really is, but you've taken it better than many. There are stories about how some shipgirls just… shut down for a few days after they came back, I suppose they just had to think through things before they were ready."

"Who?"

"More than a few of the ones you met today, like Hibiki. At least until she met her sisters."

"Did she get better?" Ooyodo nodded,

"Oh, of course she did. Sure she's a lot more low-key than her sisters, but she's a lot better than when she first came back." She returned to her preparations until Niyodo asked,

"What about you?" The light cruiser stopped, then slowly set her toothbrush down and turned to face her sister. She sighed, then said.

"No." Ooyodo rubbed her temples as she went on, "Niyodo, I never even dreamed that I'd be able to see you. I wished it could happen, but I never let the idea that it couldn't happen bother me." She stopped and locked eyes with her sister, "But that does not mean that I'm not happier than I've been to see you."

Niyodo opened her mouth, but something was wrong. Her throat was tight, and her eyes were… Dripping something? Ooyodo rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around Niyodo, "Shhh. It's alright, it's fine. I think I understand."

* * *

 **NAS Key West,**

Rhode Island gulped nervously and steeled herself before she pushed the door to the docks open. It's occupants looked away from the TV, then with one exception, they scampered over to her.

The destroyers were clearly tired, but still chipper as they gathered around her. "How are you?"

"Thanks for visiting!"

"Hi Rhodie!" Dallas waved weakly from her tub. The little destroyer was pale but still looked happy, despite the conspicuous depression in the gown that covered her body.

"Dallas, how- how is-"

"I'll be fine, I've had worse- ow!" Dallas shot a betrayed look at Goff, who had thrown a plastic cup with unerring accuracy at her head.

"No you haven't 'had worse'." She rolled her eyes as she looked back to Rhode Island, "Her prognosis is good." She covered her mouth as she yawned, "I'm sorry. I've been staying here with her since we arrived."

"I've been telling her to sleep, but she hasn't since we got back," Dallas said in a sing-song tone, like she was telling a secret.

"Alex!"

"It's true!" Dallas pouted, "You need to rest Goff. I'm not going anywhere."

Rhode Island heard Alden whisper, "Since when is Dallas the reasonable one?" Goff's mouth opened and shut a few times, then her shoulders slumped.

"Okay Dallas." She started to shuffle towards the door, slipping past Rhode Island on her way to the destroyer quarters upstairs. Dallas was talking even before the door closed,

"Thanks for coming to see me! Don't feel bad about this," she poked the depression in her chest. "I'll be fine in just a couple of weeks, then I'll really show 'em!"

"Does that hurt?" Rhode Island asked. Dallas waved her hand noncommittally,

"Sometimes, usually when they have to change the repair fluid and I have to get out. But it's fine right now." She sighed then said, "The worst part is having to stay still for so long."

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"Nah, I just have to wait it out is all."

"Okay then." Rhode Island stood in the doorway as the destroyers returned to their places, and their attention turned back to the movie. A few moments later she moved to a spot in the corner and stood there, waiting.

* * *

 **Newport, Rhode Island,**

Pierce looked up as Archer strode into his office, "Doctor. It's a good thing you're here, I was going to need to speak with you about the next test."

"That's great Commodore, considering what I'm here about." Archer cleared his throat, "In light of that small hiccup in the ceremony, I took the liberty of putting a list together for you."

"I'm sorry," Peirce said incredulously, "What 'hiccup' are you talking about exactly?"

"She didn't have a name." Archer said as he set a pad of paper down on Peirce's desk, "That was the problem. But with this, you won't have to come up with something on the spot for them." The Commodore picked the pad up and started to skim through it,

"Battleships, Kansas, Oregon, Virginia… Des Moines class?"

"Cancelled ships, ordered but never laid down."

"I see. I'm going to guess that you'll keep working on this?"

"Oh, of course." Archer nodded, "There are many destroyers that need names, which will require more a lot more work. I'll probably open that to suggestions from the rest of that class."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? You know how destroyers are."

"I'll check them of course, in fact, I'll require them to write an actual proposal for the names before they go on the list." Archer ripped the first page off the pad and scratched down the idea, "The list was the only thing I have for now. But I do think that you should send it out before any more summonings happen anywhere."

"With any luck, that won't be an issue for the next one." Pierce leaned back and smiled tightly, "Tomorrow you'll be getting a set of plans for our next project. And this one comes from the top." He turned his screen to reveal a drawing of a battleship, one that Archer was very familiar with. Five ships, ordered but never laid down, what would have been the last word in American battleship design.

"Well, I'll make sure we have plenty of steel on hand and warn the mess hall."

* * *

 **Arorae, Gilbert Islands,**

Maryland's boots crunched on the shattered glass in the ruins Roreti, what had been the largest village on the island, boasting nearly 1,000 residents before the war.

Now there was nothing but empty and destroyed buildings, shattered Abyssal fortifications, and the scattered remains of the Abyssal land forms.

One of which was still moving.

It had the general form of a man, a head, torso, two arms, and two legs. But instead of flesh and bone, it looked to have been wrought from barbed wire and concrete, twisting and warping as it flailed beneath a fallen tree. It's weapon, a crude interpretation of an M1 Garand lay just out of its reach.

Slowly, Maryland stalked towards it, and it redoubled it's mad gestures as she closed in. She brought her foot down hard on one of the arms and twisted it, severing the limb with a splash of ichor. The Abyssal shrieked, and tried to grab her leg with its other arm. Maryland caught it and pulled it from the mass before tossing the inert thing aside with another spray of black fluid. She stared at the featureless face of the thing, the shifting wires and bits of concrete and rebar gave no expression. After a moment she brought her foot up and slammed it down on the thing's head, instantly the shrieking stopped. Maryland ground her heel deeper into the smashed mass when a voice shouted,

"Hey Mary." She turned her head to see Colorado trudging down the road towards her, "Cleaning up?"

"Just finished with this one," Maryland replied as she removed her foot from the very flat head and flicked a chunk of its dried fluids from her shirt. "I suppose the Marines want to finish their job?"

"They're already landing reinforcements, don't you hear the helicopters?"

"It's hard to over the noise these things make," Maryland jerked her thumb towards the dead Abyssal. She winced at the sight of Colorado's hastily patched wounds, the bandage over her missing eye from the air attack by the installation, the gouge in her left shin left by the torpedo, and the score of smaller wounds from the heavy cruisers who had staged the last defense of the island from the combined shipgirl force. "Should you be out here?" Colorado shrugged,

"What could these things do? Make me die laughing?"

"Fair point." Maryland looked around once again at the island, the shattered village, the torched trees to the east, and the blood and ichor stained beach to the west. After a moment she said, "Let's get the hell out of here. It's too depressing."

"I won't argue."

In silence the two of them departed to the west, transitioning from the land to the sea without a second thought. As they passed the _Makin Island_ , Colorado spoke up. "You know what happens now right? We get to go back to the states, to Norfolk."

"And _her_."

"If we're lucky it'll be in less than two weeks." Colorado smiled, "I think that calls for a bit of a celebration."

"Do you mean…"

"With real Cain Sugar, none of that corn crap." Maryland felt her mouth water at the promise of Coca-Cola, like it was in the old days, when her crew had enjoyed the cold drink in the heat of the Pacific.

"I think that this is a perfect time for that."

* * *

 **NAS Key West,**

The klaxon jolted Rhode Island from her sleep, and she instantly knew what it meant.

Abyssals were attacking the station.

She rolled out of bed and threw open her closet, pulling on her combat uniform as quickly as she could. Skirt, shirt, socks, shoes, then she was out into the front room where her rigging was resting on its support stand. It connected easily, and she was out the door in less than three minutes, sprinting to the ramp that lead directly to the channel.

By the time she arrived a squad of destroyers and Arkansas were already there waiting, Arkansas was barking orders to the force. "Alden leads out, she has the best radar. If you see anything, light it up and get your fish out even if you don't have a solid ID, got it?"

"Yes ma'am!" The four-piper saluted before taking off down the channel, followed by her sisters. Arkansas then turned to Rhode Island,

"Good, same for you. If it moves and isn't them," she pointed at the speeding destroyers, "Kill it." Rhode Island nodded as she leaped onto the water and accelerated down the channel. All guns were loaded, her radar was up, and out there was an Abyssal just begging to be sunk.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the klaxon stopped. In the moonlight, Rhode Island could see Arkansas's confusion, "What the hell?"

"What?"

"That's only possible if someone keys in the code from an alert station or is inside the control room. I don't like this at all Rhodie, I'm calling in." As the older battleship talked to the staff in the control room, the pair of shipgirls passed out of the channel. Aside from the destroyers and the island, there was nothing on the radar of interest. Then Arkansas cursed, then she shouted. "False alarm, destroyers head back." She turned to Rhode Island, "You stick with me, something screwy is up at one of the watch stations."

It took only a few minutes for the two battleships to make it to the fortified post on the southern shore of the island. A handful of people were standing outside it, a few were armed marines, a couple were sailors, and the last could only be a shipgirl. Arkansas lead the way onto the beach and stopped in front of the new shipgirl, closely followed by Rhode Island.

In the light from the marine's taclights, the shipgirl blinked at the two battleships before smiling and waving, "Hello there! Do you know what my name is?"

* * *

 **Notes:**

If anyone does have advice for improvements that could be made, do let me know please.


	9. Chapter 9

**NAS Key West,**

Rhode Island kept her guns trained on the interloper. _If she tries anything_ … Her eyes flitted from right to left, _I don't think any of them will live_. That realization put a damper on her rising bloodlust, which was firmly squelched when Arkansas stepped into the line of fire and took the shipgirl's hand. The old battleship asked,

"You don't have a name?" The unknown shipgirl shook her head, her white hair almost gleaming in from the flashlights,

"No I don't. Who are you?"

"My name is Arkansas, do you really not have a name? Or a hull number or anything?"

"N-no I don't." She shook her head again, "I don't…" She trailed off with a lost expression on her face. Rhode Island took a few steps ahead, then a realization struck. _Wait a minute, I know that face!_

"Arkansas, I think we need to get her to Rosecrans. I know who- what she is."

"Oh?"

"That submarine, the intelligent Abyssal, who was never built." Arkansas cursed quietly,

"In that case, if you can hold on for a while." She laid a hand on the new shipgirl's shoulder, "And you'll get a name before the night is over."

The subgirl's eyes came back into focus again, "Really?" She asked plaintively.

"Yes, just come with us and you'll be set."

* * *

The surge of adrenaline had worn off by the time they were back in the shipgirl's building, and Rhode Island found herself trying to avoid nodding off while seated in Rosecrans's office while Arkansas went to get him back from the central command bunker. _Stupid. When I was out on the mission I didn't feel tired at all…_ She took the time to inspect the new girl, who was unmistakably the shipgirl form of the Abyssal submarine she had sunk.

Like herself, the new girl had blue eyes and white hair, no marks or scars on her body, and a fair complexation. But her clothing and rigging were very different, with the subgirl wearing a sort of headset with a conning tower and periscope on the left side, a tight-fitting single-piece swimsuit, and swim flippers. Her rigging was shaped like a flat deck attached to her lower back, the turrets mounted in a superfiring configuration, arm guards with torpedoes slotted into them, and a series of strange tubes that she had strapped to her left thigh. The girl alternated between nervously looking at Rhode Island, nervously looking around the room, or just gazing off into empty space.

As the subgirl didn't seem inclined to do anything, Rhode Island stood up and looked around Rosecrans's office, which she had never actually seen for an extended period. It was actually very bland, with off-white walls, thin gray carpet, and stark white fluorescent lights. The furniture, a desk, three chairs, two shelves, and a pair of filing cabinets, were all cheap flat-packed stuff that looked to have seen more than a few owners before Rosecrans. But the stuff that was on those shelves was of much more interest.

Rhode Island bent down to read the plaque under a model of a modern warship, it took a moment for her to place the shape. "Ticonderoga class cruiser. USS _Shiloh_ , CG-67, September 8th 1990 to September 1st 2024." _That was the day the war started, was this Rosecrans's ship then?_

At last, a disheveled Rosecrans hustled into the room, closely followed by Arkansas. He grabbed the new girl's hand and shook it. "Hello, I'm Captain Ian Rosecrans, and I've been told that you need a name."

"Y-yes sir!"

"So," Rosecrans studied the new shipgirl critically, "what sort of ship are you?"

"Armored cruiser submarine sir!" Rosecrans only faltered for a moment,

"Really. Well…" He grabbed a volume of the shipgirl guide and flipped to the index, "Just give me a bit to find something that isn't in use… Any suggestions?"

"What about a whale name?" Arkansas asked, gesturing to the subgirl. "No offense, but she's one of the bigger subs I've ever seen."

"That is a brilliant idea Arkansas!" Rosecrans looked up from the guide, "How does Orca sound?" The subgirl's face lit up,

"My name is Orca now? I love it!"

"Fantastic," Rosecrans stifled a yawn, "Arkansas, if you could go get the coffee going? This is going to take a while."

While Rosecrans sat down and picked up his phone, and Arkansas slipped out to the mess, Rhode Island extended a hand to Orca. _Now that I think about it, she looks a lot like me!_ "Hello, I'm Rhode Island." Orca took the offered hand,

"It's good to meet you," She tilted her head, then grabbed a strand of her hair and pulled it in front of her eyes. "Our hair is the same…" Her eyes focused back onto Rhode Island, "That's interesting…"

"I think I know why." Rhode Island said, "Why we look so much alike."

"We do?" Orca said as she ran her hands through her hair, "I mean our hair is alike, but?"

Rhode Island glanced around for a mirror, or something reflective. _Nothing in here, I'll have to show her later…_ "Well, I think we're the same, sort of." Orca raised an eyebrow,

"What?"

"Well… I was never built as a real ship, and you weren't either. So we sort of come from the same place."

Orca tilted her head, "The same place huh? Well…" She rubbed her chin, "I don't really remember anything from before. It's like…" She trailed off and shrugged, "I don't know how to explain it." Rhode Island nodded,

"I know that feeling, it's like when you've been told something, but don't really know it yourself. Sort of secondhand knowledge."

"I'll take your word for it." Orca shifted slightly, "This thing is kind of heavy…"

"Oh, your rigging? We can find a support stand for that somewhere." Rhode Island walked over to where Rosecrans was looking dismally at his phone, with some very bland music coming from the receiver. "Sir-"

"Go ahead," he waved towards the door. "D.C. is never that fast on the pickup."

"Alright then, let's go."

* * *

 **Wilhelmshaven, Germany,**

The first of October had brought overcast skies and intermittent rain over northern Europe that had lasted the entire week, but that had not stopped the construction in Wilhelmshaven. Blücher admired the new construction along the northeast side of the Jade Bight as she cruised across the water. The Fatherland's only deepwater port was vital to its interests, but that was not the reason that Deutsche Marine had pulled more than half of its surface shipgirls to one place.

Fashioned after a covered slipway, the summoning building had been built in less than three weeks, starting the day after the report arrived from the United States. It was bedecked inside and out with flags and emblems of Germany, most prominently a gloriously large Bundesschild painted on the seaward side of the building. _I just wish I could be in there when it happens_ … Blücher sighed. But I'm out here on patrol instead, _I hope Prinz is having a better time in there_.

* * *

 _I wish Blücher were in here, she would have liked this_. Prinz Eugen stood in a line of shipgirls, the most concentrated German naval power since the battles for Norway and the North Sea in the dark days of 2025. Tirpitz, Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, Deutschland, Admiral Hipper, herself, Köln, Karlsruhe, Lepzig, and a detachment of destroyers to round out the group. They all carried their riggings, and were more than ready to put down whatever was summoned if it proved to be less than friendly. The ceremony had been surprisingly quick, consisting mostly of a long string of songs, old patriotic songs of Germany. _Deutschlandlied, Die Wacht am Rhein, O Deutschland_ hoch _in Ehren_ , then a reprise of _Deutschlandlied_. As the last repeat of the chorus trailed to silence, it happened.

Flottillenadmiral Hartman, the man in charge of the Wilhelmshaven surface shipgirls, stepped forward and saluted the new shipgirl. Prinz let herself relax slightly, the new girl was clearly not an Abyssal, and she clearly wasn't a sister ship to any of the girls present.

She had the slender build of a light cruiser, and had the same features of almost all German shipgirls, long and very light hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion. Her clothing consisted of a short-sleeved gray dress, significantly longer than the usual for a German shipgirl, with additional details in black, red, and white. Including an Iron Cross on both shoulders. On legs were red stockings, and she wore a pair of black shoes with prominent rudder style heels, adding several centimeters to her height.

The new girl's rigging was shaped like a sort of flat deck which was attached to her lower back with a quartet of turrets, two up and two down, with a small superstructure, funnel, and aircraft catapult in the center and extending off the back. A small handful of AA guns were attached to the rig, and she wore her torpedo tubes on her shins.

She returned Hartman's salute, "Hello sir! Ah…" Her brows furrowed, "Ah… I'm reporting for duty sir."

"So, you don't know your name? How does," Prinz saw Hartman consult the notes on the lectern. "Graudenz sound?" The new shipgirl smiled faintly,

"I like the sound of that sir." She jumped slightly as the human observers started to applaud and asked, "What is going on?"

"Graudenz, this is a great day for Germany and the world as a whole. You are the first shipgirl of Germany to have never been built in steel. Hopefully the first of many more." Prinz smiled as Hartman gestured to the formation of shipgirls, "To join with the rest of the fleet and put an end to this war. Speaking of that fleet." Hartman's smile widened, "I'm sure that they want to meet you as well."

"Really?" Graudenz twirled around and bolted over towards the line of shipgirls, "Hello everyone!" Tirpitz stepped forward,

"Hello Graudenz, welcome to the Deutsche Marine."

* * *

 **NAS Key West,**

Rhode Island blinked in the morning light as the sun broke over the horizon and she sipped at the mug of coffee that Arkansas had given her. _This is a good place._

The rooftop offered a decent view of the islands, not as good as the view from the lighthouse for sure, but still. _It's quiet up here too_. Downstairs Rosecrans and Orca were involved in what he had promised to be a 'marathon phone call', and warned her to find a place out of the way to avoid it. Arkansas had joined her for a bit but… Rhode Island glanced over at the older battleship, who had sat down on one of the chairs and gone to sleep in a matter of moments. With a mental shrug, Rhode Island looked back east and let time slip by as the sun climbed from the sea.

She jumped in surprise as a phone started to ring. Arkansas grumbled something as she dug a phone from her pocket, "What is it?" Rhode Island strained to hear what was being said, but she couldn't make it out. "Alright, we'll be down shortly, tell them to save some for us." Arkansas ended the call and slipped it back into her pocket before stretching, "Calls are done apparently, but the captain wants you to take care of Orca."

"Take care of her? But how can I do that?" _There's no way I can take care of another shipgirl like me! I barely know what's going on around here!_

"All you need to do is let her follow you around, answer her questions, make sure she eats, sleeps, knows where the head is, that sort of thing. Besides, I'll be around to field anything that you can't help her with." Arkansas got to her feet and took a deep breath, "Also breakfast is up. You'd best get down there if you want anything before the destroyers get around for seconds."

"But I-"

"If you don't do it then you'll never get better at it," Arkansas cut her off. "I'm serious, there are people around to give you a hand with things, but you have to step up to do it yourself. Got that?"

"Y-yes ma'am." I don't think I've seen her like this before.

"You are a battleship. That means that you are going to be one of the centerpieces of any formation, and when things get rough and the shells are flying, you need to have the awareness and confidence to make calls. Shepherding around Orca is going to be a cakewalk next to that." Arkansas slapped Rhode Island on the back, "Come on then. Grab Orca and come to the mess, I know you can handle it."

"Thank you Arkansas."

"Sometimes all you need is a kick in the right direction," she shrugged as she walked towards the door.

* * *

 **Newport, Rhode Island,**

Despite the snow, the atmosphere in Newport was surprisingly warm when Archer entered the summoning building. Everyone seemed to be more energized than they had been before, in a way that was beyond the announcement of their next project.

He made it to his office and grumbled when he saw the folder that had been left atop his desk instead of in his organizer outside in the hall. Archer picked it up and paused when he saw the title.

'Niyodo and Ooyodo'

Carefully, he set down his coffee, pulled out his chair, and sat down to read. The folder contained a report, authored by a handful of Japanese officers, and Akashi. He turned the page and stared at the photograph, there was the recognizable Ooyodo, the one-off Japanese light cruiser. But next to her was a shipgirl who could have been Ooyodo's perfect reflection, which could only mean one thing.

 _They actually did it! It wasn't just a one-off, they were able to perform the summoning!_

Archer set the report aside and sipped at his coffee, contemplating the implications. _It's impressive that they were able to get the ceremony set up so quickly, that's a definite benefit for us. While Niyodo isn't definite proof, she is enough to clear up most doubts that anyone might still have about this. She looks normal enough, but there is the report from Norfolk about that submarine Abyssal. There must be a connection, but the only apparent ones aren't appealing._ He grabbed a notepad and pen and started writing, organizing his thoughts.

 _'A) New Abyssals and new shipgirls are unrelated_

 _B) New shipgirls have created_ way _for new Abyssals to be made_

 _B1) One for one_

 _B2) As fast as they can be summoned'_

 _If it's the latter, what would we have unleashed on the world_? Archer set the pad aside and logged into his machine, Regardless of what it is, people need to know about it. A moment later he stopped, then grabbed his phone and dialed for Pierce. _He can get this to the higher ups faster._

* * *

Less than twenty minutes later Archer found himself standing in Pierce's office while the commodore stalked agitatedly around the room. "It might not be that bad. I got a call from Boco Chico Key this morning."

"Where Rhode Island was assigned?"

"Yeah, and that Abyssal that was sunk down there? It came back- get this. As a _shipgirl_." Pierce stopped is pacing and grinned, "Now named Orca." He turned to his computer, "The man in charge down there, Rosecrans, will be putting together a profile on her and getting it to us and D.C. before noon. But she shows all the signs of a regular shipgirl who was an Abyssal."

"No memory of it?"

"None, though she caused a panic when she crawled onto the beach right in front of a marine patrol. But that's only part of the reason I've called you up here. By now you've seen the photos and report about Niyodo?"

"I have, and I'm honestly impressed that they got it together so quickly."

"I can do you one better, the Germans have done the same thing for a light cruiser earlier this morning." Pierce turned his screen around to show the photographs, "M class, named Graudenz. I think we've done some really good work here Archer, it's been a real honor to have worked with you on this."

"Thank you for that, but do consider what I sent to you about the possibilities of the Abyss using this against us."

"That's already been sent to Washington for them to look at, if there is a trend they should be able to puzzle it out. One last thing, they've already committed to expanding summoning operations down into Norfolk. The building is already going up."

"That's something, when will we be making our next attempt?"

"A shipment of scrap steel should be here by next Tuesday, and we'll do it right after."

* * *

 **Norfolk, Virginia,**

"Miss Colorado?"

Colorado growled as she was jolted back to awareness. _When I finally get to sleep on an airplane_ … She opened her eyes and glared at the man who had woken her, "What is it?"

"We've landed is what, and there's a person waiting for you outside." Colorado sighed.

"Alright, hold on."

Then a voice she could not fail to recognize shouted, "Colorado!" A moment later the unmistakable form of West Virginia was bounding down the aisle towards her, pushing past the other passengers. The man who had woken her sducked aside, seeing what was coming. Colorado fumbled with her seatbelt and got it undone just in time for West Virginia to haul her to her feet and wrap her arms around her. "I've missed you so much!" Colorado laughed,

"I've missed you too." As West Virginia disentangled herself, she caught sight of the next row back. "Maryland!"

"Hello." Colorado turned and helped her sister to her feet,

"Geeze Mary, you look awful." West Virginia said as she wrapped her other sister in a tight hug, "You're on the ground now, safe and sound!"

"Thanks, now if we could get off…?"

"Please!" Colorado shot a half-hearted glare at the man behind, but grabbed West Virginia's collar and gently pulled her away. _We should be getting off before one of us_ \- She yelped as her foot caught in the strap of her bag and started to tilt past her limit. A moment later an iron grip caught her shoulder and pushed her back up.

"Careful! You're already hurt," West Virginia chided.

"Sorry, sorry. We should get off _now_." Colorado grabbed her bag and fell into the line of people filing off the plane.

* * *

A few minutes later, the trio were off the airplane and onto the tarmac of Chambers Field. West Virginia helped her sisters load their luggage into her car, and their rigs into the trailer before she slid into the driver's seat. "Don't worry, I've gotten better at this!"

"As long as you don't wrap it around a tree or hit anyone, it'll have been an improvement." Maryland nudged West Virginia's shoulder and grinned, "But considering what it was last time, it was fine."

Once Colorado was settled in the back and Maryland in the passenger seat, West Virginia took off towards the shipgirl's building. It had been built on the west side of Willoughby Bay, not far from the line of piers for the steel ships, but a solid three miles from the airport.

After several minutes of driving, Colorado cleared her throat, "Is that building the one?" She leaned forward to point to a round-roofed building near to the ball fields, right on the water.

"Yep, it'll only be a few days until everything is ready." West Virginia's tone was subdued, "It's been hard to wait with it being so close."

"It won't be long now," Maryland said firmly. "It has to work."

"Of course it will," West Virginia replied simply. "I saw it work already you know, and she'd definitely have more of a spirit to work with than Rhodie did." She deftly pulled into a parking space and shut off the car, "Once we get your stuff in, I found a great place a couple of weeks ago over in Kecoughtan where we could go." West Virginia grinned at Maryland, "And they have crab cakes."

Without hesitation, Maryland replied, "Sold."

"Well hurry up!" Colorado said as she climbed out of the car, "What the heck, it'll be my treat."

* * *

 **Yokosuka, Japan,**

Admiral Goto pushed the door to his office open and nearly slipped on the mess of papers scattered across the floor. He caught himself, then snatched one of the offending parchments up. A moment later he realized what it was.

The paper was neatly folded, with 'A Request' written on the outside. Goto unfolded the paper and started to read it, "Let's see… Interests of the fleet to summon further cruisers… signed Sendai, Naka, and Jintsuu." He grabbed another, _this is Kaga's handwriting_. "Formally request the allocation of resources to summon… Tosa."

Goto looked down at the spread of papers. Well, I think I have a task to allocate for the day. "Ooyodo?"

"Yes sir?" The light cruiser appeared behind him, "What on Earth are all of those?" He handed her Kaga's letter,

"Summoning requests. Now that they're back from the Gilberts..."

"I see. I'll work on getting these sorted right away."

"Thank you Ooyodo." Goto helped Ooyodo gather the letters, then went to his desk. Outside he could hear a group of destroyers playing a game of some kind, in the distance was the droning of the carriers as they practiced with their aircraft, and right about now...

His door was thrown open, and a familiar figure struck a pose in the frame. "Hey! I brought tea for you admiral!"

"Hello Kongou, take a seat. I'm sure you have a lot to tell about what you've been up to in the Gilberts." Everything is just right.

 **Notes:**

Graudenz is the name of a WWI German light cruiser, which makes it a good option for a summoned and previously unnamed ship of the same type.

Tosa is an obvious one, but there were going to be as many as five more Sendai class ships. The list of unbuilt ships only grows longer as my research continues. [I might have a problem]

The restaurant WeeVee mentions is based on a real one, but having never been there myself, I cannot make a real recommendation.


	10. Chapter 10

**NAS Key West,**

Key West's shipgirl mess hall was a fraction of the size of the one up in Newport, taking up about a third of the lower floor of the building on the south side. It had the same generous geometry for its doors though, nine feet high and six across to accommodate the largest of shipgirls and their rigging. _Iowa is supposed to be more than seven feet high, I wonder what other shipgirls need such big doors_. She took a deep breath, the smell of frying bacon and eggs and the scent of toast filled her nose.

"Hello, Rhode Island!" The small battleship jumped in surprise and whirled around to see Orca close behind her.

"How did you do that? Where were you?" There was no way for anyone to hide that close to the door was there?

"It's what I do." Orca shrugged, "hiding just felt... Normal."

Arkansas snorted, "Typical submarine." She rustled Orca's hair, "You'll fit right in with them."

"Thanks." Orca said as she fell in with the battleships, "Everyone is looking at us..."

"They're curious is all," Rhode Island said as she grabbed a tray. "You're the newest shipgirl in the fleet after all." She grabbed two stacked plates from the ready line, "I've got for both of us. "

"Thank you." Orca pressed closer to get a view, "Ohh..."

"One of the perks of being a shipgirl, they take good care of us. " Arkansas said as she pressed on towards a central table, "Here. This will help with the crowd."

"What do you..." Orca trailed off. Rhode Island turned to see the subgirl slowly backing away from a growing number of destroyers, their curious eyes watching her like hawks.

Not far off really, Rhode Island interposed herself between Orca and the destroyers. "You'll get to meet her in a little bit, but let her eat first."

"What's her name?"

"What is she?"

"Looks like a sub to me…"

"Of course she is! Look at her suit."

"H-hello," Orca took a halting step around Rhode Island. She raised her hand in a timid wave, "I'm O-orca, and I'm a submarine." She whimpered as the destroyers pressed closer and surrounded her. Rhode Island cleared her throat,

"Knock it off, leave her alone for now." She waved her arms, "Shoo! Go finish eating or something!" The destroyers scattered back into their groups, though their eyes remained on Orca. and Rhode Island sighed. Suddenly Orca had wrapped her in a tight hug,

"Thank you!" Rhode Island looked down at the trembling submarine, "I don't know what…"

"Natural thing," Arkansas spoke up. She leaned back in her chair, "You're a submarine, and destroyers are pretty good at hunting submarines. Entirely natural reaction" Arkansas returned to her breakfast. Rhode Island gently pried Orca's arms from around her and guided her to a seat, _Well, I know who I'm going to have to keep a close eye on_. She glanced at the destroyers, still following Orca with their eyes. _More than I thought…_

As for Orca herself, she was already devouring the plate of food that had been provided. She had placed her eggs and bacon between her toast and was gleefully munching away at it. Rhode Island cast a last glance around the hall at the other shipgirls before taking her own seat.

"Not bad," Arkansas said conversationally. "If you keep that up and I think you could handle a force of shipgirls bigger than destroyers."

"I don't know, destroyers are one thing, but other battleships?"

"That sort of thing takes time to learn, leading really effectively in a battle that is. But keeping your force of escorts organized takes a firm hand, especially when things first kick off. They can't always go on a general attack like they did last time."

 _Cruising, AA, and surface combat formations like Wyoming talked about_. The old training ship had been very insistent on the proper formations for shipgirls to defend themselves against aircraft and surface threats, with the series of rings or lines of destroyers, cruisers, battleships, then carriers and steel ships at the very center or far back. "I understand that."

"I know Wyoming went over that with you, but if you come under a serious attack if you don't handle it right, people will die." Arkansas stifled a yawn, "Eh, sorry. I get a like this when I'm tired."

"Rhode Island?" She looked over to see Orca tugging at her sleeve, "What do I do now?"

"You're already done? Well, you could go back through the line and get more. I mean I haven't even started…" She watched for a moment as Orca took off towards the line again, then she turned her attention to her own meal. _The next few days will take so long…_

* * *

 **Norfolk, Virginia,**

West Virginia whistled as she took a six pack of coke from her refrigerator and strode into her living room, Colorado had laid down on the couch and propped her feet on one of the arms, and Maryland had taken one of the recliners. She set the soda down on the table and took a seat, grabbing a bottle on her way.

"I thought it was going to be a few weeks before you got back, what changed?" Maryland grimaced, "Well when your little friend got summoned I guess the higher-ups decided that they wanted more shipgirls summoned faster. So we got the express trip stateside." Colorado groaned and covered her eyes with her arm,

"From Makin Island to Ford to Pearl to San Diego to Dallas to Norfolk." She uncovered her eyes and sat up slightly, "It was hell." West Virginia shuddered at the thought.

 _How long would that take? Twelve, eighteen hours?_ She smiled, "Well at least you're here now."

"True," Colorado got the rest of the way up and grabbed a bottle. "I think I'm going to hit the docks, my leg is still a little twingey."

"What happened? The last time I talked to you, it was just before the attack on… uh…"

"Arorae." Maryland's eyes narrowed, "If you've seen one island like that, you've seen them all. But there were a few aircraft that got through from the installation."

"Yep, took a torpedo from an Avenger." Colorado rubbed the bandage, "Not the worst I've had, the eye hurt worse." West Virginia focused, _I thought there was something wrong!_ Colorado's left eye was bloodshot, and the skin around it just looked newer than the rest.

"What happened?"

"That Avenger? It didn't survive for very long, let's leave it-"

"She shot it down and it hit her in the face," Maryland broke in. "Wing clipped her before it went into the drink, could have been worse though."

"Yeah…" Colorado stood and rolled her shoulders with audible pops, "I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Okay," West Virginia waved as her older sister departed. She turned her attention to Maryland as soon as the door closed, "Is she really okay?"

"Yeah, she is." Maryland pulled at a strand of her auburn hair, "Arorae was bad West. The Abyss has been digging in ever since Wake, and it's harder and harder to get them out each time now." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. West Virginia looked down at the floor, _Was one of the Abyssals that destroyed Arorae me? The group that thing was with came from that direction…_ She shivered at the image of the Abyssal, so much like her in its face and body rampaging through the defenseless villages of the Pacific. The things Abyssals did to humans were known from the many times the mainland had been raided, or a crippled ship had been attacked with survivors. The sort of barbarism displayed was enough to keep all but the most hardened shipgirls awake at night, _Especially since that could be any of us_.

A treacherous thought drifted up from somewhere, _Washington. The lost sister coming back as a-_ "No." She said firmly, causing Maryland to jump.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." West Virginia shook her head, "Just a dumb idea is all."

"Is it about _her_?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, you know how they work. Sink them, then the shipgirl comes."

"I know that, but to know for sure that she's my-" West Virginia 's voice caught.

"If it comes to that, you'd be setting her free. Remember that."

"I don't think that would make it any easier, but… If I had to I think I could."

"We can only pray it doesn't come to that." Maryland paused for a moment, "That got depressing West."

"Sorry." West Virginia scratched her head, "It's just something that's bothered me since that whole thing with the Abyssal submarine."

"What thing?"

"You don't know?"

"News wasn't easy to come by while we were out there, there was an Abyssal submarine?" Maryland had leaned forward now, her blue eyes wide as she listened.

"It was less than a week ago, they spotted a new type of Abyssal submarine out there." West Virginia waved to the east, out toward the ocean. "It moved south before we got a chance to sortie after it, last I heard it had been sunk down around the Bahamas."

"I see… Do you know what it was like?" West Virginia shook her head,

"They put a profile together for the briefing, but since we didn't go out I never saw the thing. I'd guess it's in the Abyssal ID guide by now, but I haven't checked the thing." She stood and walked over to the countertop to where her laptop was. While many shipgirls had a hard time adjusting to modern technology, she had taken to it without much trouble. West Virginia opened the screen and double-clicked the icon for the Abyssal ID guide, a simple white 'A'. While the guide loaded, she took the laptop back over and sat down close to Maryland. "From what I heard it was one of those cruiser things, big guns on a submarine for raiding merchant ships."

"Weird." Maryland moved to the couch beside West Virginia and watched as her younger sister navigated to the profile. A tag at the top of the entry caught her eye, "Updated earlier today?" West Virginia touched the screen, which prompted a text box to appear.

"Abyssal has returned as a shipgirl at NAS Key West on October fifth?" West Virginia ran a hand through her hair, "That's…"

"Bad." Maryland pointed to the first paragraph of the Abyssal's entry. "This is the first Abyssal documented to have never been constructed, to the extent that the design was never even approved for construction." She looked West Virginia in the eyes, "Do you know what that means?"

"I think I do, which means that the brass must know as well." _This isn't good at all. If the Abyss can make new types like this, ones that can become shipgirls, what else could they summon up?_

* * *

 **NAS Key West,**

Rhode Island and Orca meandered through the halls of the shipgirl building, the battleship fielding the submarine's numerous questions as she lead the way.

"So there are planes that can fly without propellers?"

Rhode Island suppressed a shudder. "Yes, I came here from Newport on one."

"Was flying fun?"

"It really wasn't…" Rhode Island forced a smile, "Shipgirls like us don't take to flying very well…"

"I have planes you know, do you want to see them?" Orca asked as she tapped the tubes on her thigh. Rhode Island nodded,

"It would probably be best for us to at least go outside, or into the strait before you do that though." _If her planes are anything like Shipley Bay's, then they won't be small_. Rhode Island gestured in the direction of the shipgirl's preparation room. "Let's go get our riggings on."

The preparation room was the closest thing NAS Key West had to Newport's factory, though that relation was about as close as Dallas or Alden was to someone like Washington. Located on the first floor across from the mess hall, the room was packed with a mix of hand-controlled machine tools and tailoring equipment that was just enough to maintain a shipgirl's rigging and uniforms assuming they didn't take major damage. Orca's rigging was resting on a safety-yellow stand in the center of the room, its low turrets and a sort of armored conning tower were the only significant features. _It sure is streamlined enough for a submarine's rigging. Wait, mine is upstairs…_

"I'll be right back Orca, I need to get my rig from my quarters upstairs."

"Alright," Orca replied as she looked her rigging over. "How do I put this on again?" Rhode Island stopped short, _She doesn't remember how to put her rig on? What?_ She spun on her heel and asked,

"What?"

"Is there anything I need to do or say for it?"

 _She_ _has to be joking right_? But Orca's face was the picture of concerned earnestness.

"You back up to it, line it up where it was before, then it will attach to you. When you don't need or want it anymore, it comes off."

"Okay.." Orca turned back to her rigging, "I guess I'll stay here while you get ready."

"Right."

* * *

Rigging acquired, Rhode Island was just outside the door to the prep room when she heard voices coming from inside. She stopped and peeked around the corner to see Orca talking casually with-

"Alden?"

The destroyer jumped and looked over her shoulder, "Oh hi!" She smiled, "I was down here to check on Dallas's rigging an' we started talking." Alden pointed to Orca, who was fiddling with what looked like a miniature airplane. "She said that she was going to fly her plane, and I want to see it."

"We were going out to do that yes," Rhode Island looked from Alden to Orca. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yes, why?"

"Well at breakfast you were terrified of destroyers. "

"There were just so many of them! I just..." Orca trailed off and shrugged.

 _So she doesn't like crowds? That's good to know at least_. "I'll try and make sure that doesn't come up again."

"Thank you." Orca held out her hands, "here it is!" The miniature aircraft she had been fiddling with rested easily in her hands.

Oh my gosh it's adorable. The plane, aside from its minuscule size, had comical proportions for an aircraft. It was a biplane with two very stubby wings, with a span only as wide as the plane was long, a pair of floats that were also as long as the entire plane, and a small propeller on the front. It was painted white, with a typical American red white and blue on the tail. Orca beamed with pride, "What do you think?"

Alden leaned in, "It's kinda'…" She tilted her head, "cute in a way."

"I've never seen a plane like that." _Not that I've seen that many airplanes before…_

"It's an MS-1!" Orca said as she started to repack the airplane into her thigh container, "it's for scouting and spotting targets." She flipped the lid of the small hanger contained closed with a snap and beamed, "Are we ready to go?"

"Sure." Rhode Island shook her head as Orca bounded through the door, _submarines with airplanes, what else will people come up with_?

* * *

Humming cheerfully, Orca knelt down and lowered the plane onto the water. The tiny pilot waved up at her as she stood back up before starting the engine. With a high-pitched sputter, the tiny 60 horsepower engine came to life and started to propel the plane across the water.

 _That's weird_. Rhode Island tracked the plane with her rangefinders, which reported that indeed the plane was getting farther away. But at the same time, it wasn't getting any smaller… _Oh_ , she watched as it rose from the surface and took to the sky, at the blistering speed of 90 miles per hour. _It's getting bigger_.

Now full-sized, the MS-1 came about and soared over the shipgirls less than 60 feet above the waves. That thing is nothing like Shipley Bay's planes. Rhode Island's mind sorted through the information coming from her AA guns and directors, _90 miles per hour,_ direct _course with no evasive patterns, altitude sixty feet. Even my lightest guns could take it down without even trying that hard._

"Orca, I think that you might want to be careful with that plane. It's not that…"

"Good." Alden finished, "It'll get shot down really easy by anything."

"Oh, it can fly above anything that can shoot it down on the sea!"

"How high can it fly then?"

"Eight thousand five hundred feet!" Orca put her hands on her hips, "Pretty impressive right?"

Alden made a noise that was akin to a rubber chicken being waterboarded and buried her face in her hands, Rhode Island opened and shut her mouth several times before saying, "I don't think you grasp things."

"Oh? How so?"

"There are merchant shipgirls with enough firepower to shoot it down Orca." Rhode Island patted one of her 5'' turrets, "Even I have four of these heavy anti-aircraft turrets with the range to shoot it down. Abyssals usually have more than that." Orca seemed to wilt at that,

"Oh…" She waved her hands and the MS-1 turned around and started to descend towards the ocean. "I see, so that's what all those little guns on you are for right?"

 _I might have messed this up._ The battleship scratched the back of her head as the dejected subgirl retrieved her now miniature plane from the ocean and started to pack it away again. _Yes, yes I did mess this up_. Rhode Island cleared her throat, "Orca?"

"What is it?"

"There could be a way for you to have planes that would work well these days." Orca looked up from folding the wings,

"R-really?"

"Probably, right Alden?" The battleship smiled at the destroyer. Alden swallowed audibly and nodded her head,

"Oh, I'm sure there is something that would last longer!"

"Okay… We'll see…" Orca returned to packing her plane, seemingly lost in thought. Alden came closer to Rhode Island and whispered,

"What the hell was that?"

"You saw the look on her face, what was I supposed to do?"

"Yeah, I can get that." Alden took a deep breath, "Anyway we should see about getting Rosecrans to talk with Washington or somewhere. I don't have any ideas about airplanes."

"Well… Wyoming might? I think I can get her number from Arkansas."

"Do it then."

* * *

 **Yokosuka, Japan,**

Lunch had called almost everyone away from their regular postings as the sun crawled across the clear sky. Ooyodo sat down beside Niyodo at a mobile ramen stand. The light cruiser looked past the proprietor and watched the steel-hulled warships of the JMSDF and USN which crowded the available spots in the harbor. Her new sister looked at her with an expression of concern. "What's wrong?"

"Admiral Goto has assigned me to read and sort the letters that everyone has sent in, requesting their sisters be summoned." Ooyodo rubbed her temples, "There are still so many left to read! Every one of the Akizuki sisters in Yokosuka sent in their own letter!"

"Do you want help?"

"Who woul-" Ooyodo cut herself off. "You would help me?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't help you?" Niyodo asked, "It's not like I've done anything else aside from sitting in on Ashigara teaching the destroyers." She leaned closer and lowered her voice, "She's scary Ooyodo."

"Ashigara? She won't hurt you, she's just… Very intense."

"If you say so…" Niyodo looked up at the menu and rubbed her chin. "Hmm…"

"I like the soy sauce ramen," Ooyodo pointed at the sign. "It's what I get when I come here."

"That does sound good, I would like that as well."

"Two soy ramen?" The owner of the stand smiled tightly, "Coming right up."

"I wonder Ooyodo," Niyodo said as one of the Akizuki sisters came into view across the harbor, out on a regular patrol. "What is next? You said that there were letters, asking for ships to be summoned?"

"If there is a plan for it, then the Admiral has not told me about it." Ooyodo adopted a thoughtful tone, "Based on our current operations, I would presume that more destroyers would be the best, in particular ones with anti-aircraft capabilities."

"Like the Akizukis?"

"They would be-"

"Really?" Niyodo and Ooyodo turned around to see Harutsuki, second of the Fuyutsuki class, and a sister of the Akizukis. She was dressed in the same way as her sisters were, and was set apart by her bright yellow eyes and flowing white hair. Harutsuki looked between the two cruisers with wide eyes, "Do you mean it?" Ooyodo smiled and walked over, kneeling down to look Harutsuki in the eyes.

"I don't know, but that would be what I would suggest to the admiral if he asks me about it." The destroyer threw herself at the light cruiser and grabbed her in a hug,

"Thank you 'Yodo!"

"Just don't run off and tell everyone, it's not official understand?" Ooyodo said sternly. Harutsiki nodded,

"Okay, I won't. Thank you anyway." With that, she let go and scampered off towards the base proper, and Ooyodo returned to her stool. The proprietor of the stand grinned as he presented two bowls of hot ramen to the shipgirls.

"Thank you." Ooyodo returned the smile as she placed a small stack of coins on the countertop before Niyodo could dig out her wallet. "I'll buy for us, don't worry about it."

"Oh, are you sure?" Niyodo said as she looked between her sister and the bowl of noodles.

"I am sure, go ahead and try them."

Niyodo took up her chopsticks and brought some of the noodles to her mouth. The salty, tangy, and savory flavor of the soup was a shocking change from the mostly plain rice she'd been subsisting on before. "It's wonderful!"

Ooyodo smiled as Niyodo enthusiastically attacked her serving of ramen before turning her attention to her own lunch.

* * *

 **NAS Key West,**

Arkansas's room had much the same layout as Rhode Island's, but the older battleship had spent much more time making it into a real home. While the old battleship did something with her computer to talk to Wyoming, Rhode Island started to study the decor.

The walls were covered with photographs of shipgirls that had to be from other nations with notations neatly penned into the corners, Paris 2026, Tokyo 2024, Rome 2024, Pearl Harbor 2024.

That last one grabbed more attention, that one had more recognizable faces in it. It had been taken in what looked like a park, green trees and grass with a large mountain rising in the background. There was Arkansas, smiling in the center of the group, on the left was a shipgirl with red hair who was dressed a lot like the other face she knew. Nevada was standing on the right side, with a very slight smile that looked anything but sincere.

That was the year the war started. It must be from right around when the Aleutian Island campaign started. The shipgirls looked mostly the same physically, but something had changed about them… A moment later she realized what it was, They have something new in their eyes. In the photo, the battleships showed the slight signs of exhaustion, Nevada especially with dark circles under her eyes, and a slightly dull look to them.

"What was it like?"

"Hmm?" Arkansas looked away from her screen, "Oh. You're talking about the war." She looked down at the floor for several moments, "It was bad. Worse than forty one even, when that was taken I'd been in Pearl for less than a week, we'd been running constant rotations to try and make sure that a shipgirl was on patrol at all times around the island. Everything we heard was bad, just… Day after day it was nothing but ships being sunk, cities being attacked. Hell, there were Abyssals in the Chesapeake Bay and they had bombers over D.C." She looked up and returned to her computer, "Then we found out what the Abyssals were a few days later. 2024 and 2025 were some of the worst years I've been through."

Orca spoke up, "So will I have to dig up stuff on this war on my own…?"

"Nah, Rhodie and you will get some online stuff before too long to catch you up from 1920 to the modern day. Here we go," she slid over on the couch and gestured to the open space. Orca and Rhode Island joined Arkansas as the laptop trilled, then Wyoming appeared on the screen. The training ship smiled,

"Well, this is a surprise! Good afternoon Arkansas, Rhodie, and…" She squinted, "Submarine who I don't recognize."

"I'm Orca!"

"She's of the same extraction as Rhodie here." Wyoming's eyes widened in surprise, she leaned in closer to the screen,

"Really? Well, It's good to meet you Orca."

Rhode Island jumped as Arkansas gently elbowed her, "You brought it up before, so you get to tell her."

"Uhh right!" Rhode Island cleared her throat, "Well you see… She's a really big submarine and she's… Well…"

"A cruiser submarine?" Wyoming looked away from the screen and started digging for something on her desk, "That's strange for sure, something that'll be a challenge to find a use for." She looked back to the screen, "But while you're on the line, what's been going on in the land of really nice weather?"

"Rhodie here got her first Abyssal kill not two nights ago for a start," Arkansas ruffled Rhode Island's hair. "I don't know if you heard about it, but we had a bit of a scare about a big Abyssal sub back on the twentieth. Nasty thing, really big with a bunch of eight-inch guns. Anyway, Rhodie here is out with some destroyers and runs into the thing, and what does she do?"

"Been a while since I'd heard of someone killing a submarine with their five-inchers," Wyoming said dryly. "Not the first time though, usually-"

"She kicked its face in!" Arkansas said gleefully.

"Really." Wyoming dragged the word out, "Interesting way of doing the thing in. How did you hold up?" Rhode Island looked down at her foot,

"I broke some of the bones in my foot and crumpled part of my bow. I was able to dodge all the torpedoes though!" That brought a short laugh from Wyoming,

"Not bad Rhodie. I'm going to assume that Orca there is the shipgirl?"

"That would be correct sis, she showed up… This morning. It's been a day and a half already." Wyoming nodded with an expression of sympathy,

"Get some rest then if you're not up to talk."

"Nah, I'm fine. So how have things been on your end?"

"San Diego is about the same as usual, but some of these girls can't handle earthquakes to save their lives…"

* * *

 **Yokosuka, Japan,**

"Letter from Tenryuu, and she's asking for summoning efforts to be directed to destroyers and escorts." Ooyodo nodded as Niyodo typed the information into the document. _This is much better than how things were before._

"It's been entered, what's next?"

"Another two from some of the Akizuki sisters, looks to be Niizuki again and Natsuzuki."

"Isn't this the third letter from Niizuki?"

"It is." Ooyodo lifted her glasses and rubbed her eyes, "I can't fault them for their dedication. But I think I'll drop by later and talk with them about this."

"But it looks like we're almost done."

"Yes," Ooyodo took up another letter, then froze when she saw the name written on the envelope. "Y-Yamato wrote one too? But she's stationed in Kure..." She carefully opened the flap and extracted the letter, "Admiral Goto Shinichi, I would like to submit a request that resources be allocated to summoning the rest of my class and…" She trailed off when she saw the last request written in the letter.

"Ooyodo?" Niyodo asked in concern as her sister's face rapidly lost color.

"A-150." Ooyodo answered as the folded the letter back. "She's requested the A-150 class, and I think we should take a few minutes while I think about that."

"What's so strange about them?" Niyodo asked, she shrank back as Ooyodo started to laugh.

"You've seen what Yamato looks like?" Niyodo nodded,

"Yes, I've seen her photo and the identification information for her and Musashi."

Ooyodo got up and started pacing, "The A-150 was going to be _even bigger_ than her! Most of the documents were burned when the war ended, I don't even know where we could find actual drawings of them for the summoning. It will take weeks to even get ahold of them even if we started today…" The light cruiser rubbed her chin, "But… They'd be magnificent shipgirls… Even with how much they'd cost…"

"What should I write down for that?"

"Write down the rest of the Yamato sisters and A-150, I'll have to make a few calls about those drawings."

"Alright, I'll do that."

* * *

 **Norfolk, Virginia,**

Sunlight angled down through the skylights and spilled through the open far wall, illuminating the still pool of water inside the building. Despite the unfinished floors, scaffolding, and workmen finishing the interiors and roof, the summoning building was very much like the slipways of the New York Shipbuilding Corporation.

Colorado felt the warmth on her skin as she wandered through the summoning chamber, remembering the days she'd spent in a similar, but far larger building in Camden. _What do I even really remember from then?_ The facts were clear enough, simple matters of historical record. They had been laid down a day apart in 1919 by the NYSC, but she'd been launched months earlier than her sister. Washington had been launched on September 1st, but the treaty had left her to languish for more than two years before she had been sunk. _I remember her launch day, I'd even say I was proud of her…_

She shook her head in frustration, _It's so hard to remember what it was like! It's bad enough for the war but so long ago?_ Shipgirls all handled the change from a steel warship to a fully human looking personification differently, some took to it like fish to water, but others took days to weeks to get a handle on their new forms. But the common issue that afflicted every shipgirl was the issue of memories.

That being, that the experiences they'd accumulated as an unliving steel ship didn't really convert well to human senses and explanations. When they had crews, memories were clearer, impressions of their own perspectives. But for something as old as when she was fitting out they were splintered at best.

 _I'm sorry Washington, I don't remember you very well. But I know we'll get to know each other properly really soon_. Colorado smiled at the first piece of décor in the summoning chamber, a black and white painting of Washington as a fully-fledged battleship at full speed. Smoke billowed from her funnels, the sea split before her prow into powerful wakes, and the entire image suggested the sort of action that they had all been built for.

"It won't be long." She whispered to herself, "We'll be together again soon."

* * *

Notes:

The MS-1 was in fact that downright tiny and was also very cute.

There were three Akizuki subclasses [39 ships total]

Purestrain Akizukis [Seven Total]

Fuyutsuki class, which were very similar but simpler for cheaper and faster construction. [Four Total]

Michitsuki class, which were even simpler. Only two were laid down and only one was finished, with the rest being canceled in 1944. Nineteen ships in total were canceled without being laid down. [Twenty One Total]

Orca is a cruiser submarine, with the kit for being a proper commerce raider. So she is inclined to want to operate alone or in small groups and is also somewhat useless in the Abyssal war. Since she's a massive, slow target and the Abyss has somewhat short supply lines in their areas of control.

Washington and Colorado were built right next to each other in Camden, New Jersey. While Maryland and West Virginia hail from Newport News, they were not built concurrently with WeeVee being laid down around a month after Maryland had been launched.

Most of the A-150s documentation was burned along with a large volume of the Yamato documents at the end of WWII, it's so bad that the exact dimensions of the A-150s are only conjecture. Ooyodo has some serious digging to do in the future.

And the picture that Colorado looks at is a real one.


	11. Chapter 11

**NAS Key West,**

Rosecrans was looking away from the door as the two battleships in his command walked into his office. Arkansas cleared her throat, "Sir?"

"Good morning Arkansas," he got up and turned to face them. "Rhode Island. "

"What's going on today captain?"

"You've gotten new postings is what," Rosecrans picked up a stapled packet and handed it to the old battleship. "Your flight leaves at 1500 for Norfolk."

"Really? That's a bit short notice." Arkansas crossed her arms, "Something special is going on isn't there?"

"Yes, D.C. has authorized more summonings and the next deliberate one is going to be tomorrow in Norfolk."

"Will we be coming back here after?" Rhode Island asked. Rosecrans nodded,

"The plan as told to me is to gather a force of shipgirls to make sure things go smoothly and then have them all return to their primary bases shortly after. It shouldn't be more than a couple of days."

"Good." Arkansas looked around and leaned closer, dropping her voice she asked, "Anything on who they're summoning?"

"Not officially no, but since one of a certain group of sisters was sunk off Virginia? These sisters who are currently in Norfolk? I think we can assume Washington. "

 _Washington_! Rhode Island thought back to the explanation shed been given in Newport, _Mostly built then sunk as a target ship. What shape will she be in when she's summoned_? The image of an only mostly complete shipgirl came to mind, missing parts and helplessly waiting for the work on her to be finished. She shook her head and the vision was quickly dispelled.

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing. So what do we need to take with us?"

"Only official thing is riggings," Arkansas replied. "But I'd strongly recommend you pack for at least a week, these things tend to go on longer than advertised."

"That's true enough," Rosecrans nodded. "But this shouldn't take that long even if there is an issue of some kind."

"So you say," Arkansas shrugged as she uncrossed her arms and idly started to look through the packet. "Hello, large scale redeployment. It'll be good to catch up with some of the battlefleet again."

"No doubt. That was all I had for you, so you are dismissed." Rosecrans returned to his work as Arkansas and Rhode Island left the office.

I don't have much in the way of clothes, so this should be easy. Rhode Island ran down the list of items that she would pack.

"Come and see me if you have any questions Rhodie," Arkansas said as she walked off. "Don't cry to me if you forget something."

"I won't!"

* * *

 _This is a nice booklet_. The shipgirl guide was actually far more involved than she remembered, with a vast collection of appendices that were written by shipgirls with bits of advice. One of them, written by a USS Honolulu, included a suggested packing list. She propped the book up and started to go down the list, packing everything into the bag she'd been given. In a matter of minutes, she had emptied her entire closet and dresser into her bag and then paused. _Is that really everything_? Rhode Island looked around her bedroom at the open closet door and empty drawers, then she looked to the alarm clock on her nightstand. _I still have more than two hours…_

Rhode Island zipped her bag closed, left it by her door, then started towards the stairs to the roof.

There was a mere handful of shipgirls on the roof, two of them were blimps who were busy with some tanks around the back of their hangers, there were a few destroyers lazing in the sun, and then there was Orca. The large submarine was lurking in the shade of an umbrella, all alone. She scarcely twitched as Rhode Island sat down at the table, "Hello Orca."

"Mhmn," she kept her gaze fixed on the horizon.

"What's the matter with you?"

"First the captain said I'd be going to the sub base in Groton, but then you and Arkey are going to Norfolk." Orca snapped.

"I'm sorry…?"

"Without you around, if I leave then there would only be a bunch of destroyers here and that's not allowed. Orders from D.C. or something."

 _They_ must _want a shipgirl with bigger guns before anything can get into the gulf_. "Well, you'd be the most important shipgirl on the entire base while we're gone."

"But I want to go to Groton. That's where the other submarines are!" Orca pounded the table and scowled.

"Alright?" Rhode Island shrugged, "I'm sorry but there isn't anything I can do about it. Orders are orders after all."

"But there isn't anything to do aside from those history lectures and quizzes."

"Hmmm…" Rhode Island drummed the table with her fingers as she thought. _What should Orca do_? "Ask questions?"

"From who?"

"Well, them?" Rhode Island pointed to the blimps, who were now working on the hardpoints for their depth charges. "You're a submarine and most of the shipgirls here hunt submarines. Mabey you could get some advice from them on not getting caught?"

"I guess…" Orca glanced over at the pair of airships, "That could work out actually. Hey!" She jumped up and ran across the roof towards the blimps, leaving Rhode Island alone. She shrugged and leaned back in her chair, watching a group of cargo ships as they made their way west through the strait, once through the ships would split up and finish their trips to one of the ports in the Gulf. A single destroyer or escort was leading the convoy, more of a suggestion of security than something that could stop an attack.

 _It won't be long before that changes though, I wonder how long it will be before they start summoning destroyers.._.

Bags hanging from rigging racks, NAS Key West's two battleships watched as the gleaming white plane taxied across the tarmac towards them. Rhode Island swallowed nervously as the boarding stairs and the cargo door opened, This is going to suck.

The feeling grew as she pushed her rigging over to the cargo door, as it was lifted into the plane and was strapped down inside the cabin, as she walked around the nose and climbed the steps, and as she sat down in the row right over the wings and strapped herself in. Arkansas took the seat across the aisle from her and grimaced as the handful of other passengers took their places and a few more bits of cargo was added.

The doors closed, the fueling trucks and cargo lifters withdrew from the plane, and with a lurch, it started to taxi back to the runway. Rhode Island felt the armrests start to crush in her hands as they stopped at the end of the runway, then with a surge they were off. After several agonizing seconds, the Gulfstream IV lifted off the ground, Rhode Island's stomach dropped, and darkness took hold.

* * *

 **Newport, Rhode Island,**

Pierce ran a hand along the mangled steel that had once been part of the hull of the USS _Louis H. Wilson, Jr._ DDG-126 had been able to knock down the Abyssal aircraft with the new TV-guided missiles, but the submarine that had gotten in close during the fracas had almost done the destroyer in. Everything from the 5'' gun forward had been written off after the hit, and it would be years before she sailed again, but before then the steel would be put to good use.

"We can work with this."

"I'd hope so, if not then we've got a few tons of ex-destroyer lying around for nothing." Archer replied, "But if it serves Montana as well as it served the _Wilson_ she'll be in good shape."

"Did I ever tell you my first time at sea was on a _Burke_?"

"No, I don't think you have."

"Yes, it was DDG-101. The _Gridley_. Strange that she's gotten through without a scratch when a new ship like the _Wilson_ takes a hit like this."

"Fortunes of war I suppose, it's not like there isn't a precedent for it."

"Yeah," Peirce knocked on one of the larger chunks before he turned to face Archer. "How much do you think we'll need for this?"

"Rhode Island's summoning consumed 250 pounds of steel, and based on the levels that have been reported from Germany and Japan, there doesn't seem to be any sort of trend with displacement or dimensions."

"Nothing?"

"No, Niyodo took only 80 pounds and Graudenz consumed 320 pounds. I also checked the other resources, there is also no correlation." Archer shrugged, "I have no real data to make a conclusion from, but if we position 500 pounds I think that should cover it for steel."

"Good, getting the proper amount shouldn't take more than a few hours to pull from this."

"With the leftover timber and other metals, we should be ready by this evening, assuming we can get security in by then."

"Norfolk's summoning has priority for now unless I can convince D.C. to let some of the girls from Boston or Bath go."

"Ha." Archer said dryly, "It'd be a cold day in hell before they let those girls go for longer than a few hours."

"I know that, but if we can't get any of them we'll be on hold until after Norfolk."

"Who knows, if we summon up enough girls we might be able to get a permanent force heavier than a bunch of destroyers and escort carriers."

"If only." Pierce looked down at one of the twisted pieces of steel. _Twenty four sailors died on the Wilson, I hope that the shipgirls that come from this will honor that sacrifice_.

* * *

 **Virginia,**

With a jolt Rhode Island regained consciousnesses. She looked around wildly, still in the plane, what woke me up? A wave of vertigo washed over her and she grabbed the chair in front of her to try and steady herself, the material crushing in her grip. She slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to look out the window to see what must be Norfolk. As the plane slowed, her sense of spatial awareness came back into line and the vertigo subsided.

"Arkansas, I think we're in Norfolk."

"Looks like it, just give me a minute…" Rhode Island pressed her face closer to the window and tried to see as much of Norfolk as she could.

 _This is a bit disappointing_. The base that could be seen wasn't that dissimilar to Newport, certainly nothing that indicated the importance of the base as one of the most important military ports in the Atlantic.

After a few minutes the plane came to a complete stop, then the boarding stairs dropped open. Arkansas and Rhode Island unbuckled and pressed past the crew who were removing the straps that held their rigs in place.

"Ahhh…" Arkansas paused at the top of the stairs and stretched, her back audibly popping. "Nice to see not a lot has changed." She descended the stairs, giving Rhode Island a view to the west side of the base.

"Wow." Even with the distance, the gray forms of three supercarriers dominated the scene. _Those are the biggest ships I've ever seen, even bigger than those cargo ships. Let's see, that one on the left is a Nimitz, so is that one in the_ middle, _and that one on the right must be a Ford_ … Arkansas's voice brought Rhode Island back,

"Hey, get on down here!"

"Oh! Sorry, I just saw the ships over there."

"They are impressive for carriers I'll grant them that," Arkansas said wryly. "Now come on, I see the welcoming committee on the way."

By the time Rhode Island made it down, the shipgirls were already there waiting for her. Almost immediately West Virginia pulled her over and rustled her hair,

"Hey, Rhodie!"

"Ah," Rhode Island hurriedly tried to restore her hair. "Hello West-" The larger battleship practically dragged Rhode Island around to come face to face with two new battleships. Their faces showed their relation to West Virginia, and the numbers on their shoulders confirmed it. "Hello, Colorado, Maryland."

46, Maryland, bent down and extended a hand. "Hello Rhode Island, it's good to meet you."

"Thank you." The other shipgirl, Colorado laid her hand on Rhode Island's shoulder.

"So you're the one WeVee was talking about? Glad to meet you!" She seized Rhode Island's hand and shook it vigorously, "Thank you."

"What for…" Just like that Colorado was off and talking with Arkansas. "Huh."

"Don't mind her, she's been looking forward to this since she'd heard about you." Maryland said ruefully, "Once Nevada and Okie get here we'll have everyone that command wants for the security detail."

"Really?"

"Yes." Maryland smiled faintly, "Tomorrow morning."

* * *

 **NNE of Iceland,**

 **USS Indiana SSN-789,**

WO Jamie Martin ducked into the lockout trunk and knelt down next to the shivering shipgirl who lay on the floor. To his experienced eye, the submarine showed clear signs of a heavy depth charge attack. Her exposed skin was already turning purple and black from the massive bruises, a slight dribble of blood from her ears, and a way of movement that indicated that she had cracked or broken ribs.

He held her hand as the corpsmen gently shifted her onto a stretcher and carried her to the curtained-off section of the crew quarters that was reserved for the shipgirls that _Indiana_ was there to support. Once out in the light the number on her uniform, 738, became clear.

The corpsmen gingerly moved the U-Boat over to a bunk and tucked a blanket over her trembling body before retiring and leaving Martin alone with the subgirl. He carefully smoothed her hair back away from her face, "You're safe now." The subgirl nodded but continued to shake like a leaf in a thunderstorm,

"I've never seen... So many destroyers… In my life"

"A full report can wait until-"

"Nein." She struggled to prop herself up and winced in pain, "There was... Something big. I have to tell you," As -738 laid back, Martin grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. "Never seen anything like it... Laying on the rocks with things all over it... Like they were..." U-738 trailed off, brows furrowed in deep thought.

"What were they like?"

"Ants. Worker ants just doing something to it, I didn't get close to really see but..." U-738 closed her eyes and relaxed slightly, "It was bigger than any shipgirl, three maybe four meters long. I want to say three or four turrets but by then I'd been found..." Her gray eyes opened a crack, "How long was I...?"

"You left on the first, it's the fifth now."

"Less than a week out... I'm losing my touch." She forced a tight smile. Martin patted her head,

"It looks like it was closer than anyone would like. It won't be long before we can get you ashore and into a proper repair bath."

"Danke… Ich bin müde…"

"Go ahead and rest, don't hesitate to ask anyone if you want anything." Martin tucked the pad under his arm and slipped past the curtain as U-738 started to snore. He took a ladder down a level and headed towards the bow, entering the control center for the boat. Captain Hale looked away from the plot in the center of the compartment,

"Martin, how is she?"

"I've seen worse sir, but she's definitely stable." Martin held up the pad, "But she reported something I think we should report." Hale took the pad and read the scribbled notes,

"Do you think this is accurate?"

"I don't know, she thought it was important enough to tell me before she passed out."

"In three hours we'll come to periscope depth and transmit this," Hale ripped off the sheet of paper and handed the rest of the pad back to Martin. "Keep close to her and see if you can't get anything else."

"Yes sir."

* * *

 **Norfolk, Virginia,**

"There will be three shipgirl detachments for the ceremony tomorrow." Newberry pointed to the screen behind her, "Colorado, West Virginia, Maryland, and Nevada will be in the building for the summoning to ensure security and to orient Washington when she arrives.

Outside in the harbor will be the control force, consisting of Oklahoma, Arkansas, Rhode Island, Pensacola, Salt Lake City, and DesRon five. You will make sure that no Abyssals of any kind are able to come into range to attack Norfolk during the ceremony, and prevent anything from escaping should that be required.

DesRon twenty will work with Sitkoh Bay's task group to sweep outside the harbor for Abyssal submarines. Precise taskings will be provided to group commanders or are left to their discretion. ASW sweep will start at 0430 and conclude by 0900, the other two groups will be on station by 0930, and the ceremony will commence at 1000 exactly." She looked up from her notes at the assembled shipgirls, "Are there any questions?"

Rhode Island glanced over as Sitkoh Bay raised her hand, "Will detected submarines delay the summoning?"

"That is dependant on how the Admiral regards the contact and what the timing is in relation to the ceremony, so it depends." Newberry shrugged, "Anyone else?"

Rhode Island raised her hand, "What did you mean when you said escape?" Immediately the room erupted in murmuring, West Virginia and her sisters suddenly had a downcast look, and Newberry was pinching the bridge of her nose. _Mabey I shouldn't have asked that_ …

A moment later Newberry brought her fist down on the podium with a crash that silenced the room. "Based on the appearance of the Orca command is concerned about the possibility of unbuilt shipgirls being claimed by the Abyss." She took a deep breath, "It's a concern that has been brought up by several sources independently so the Admiral wants reasonable precaution taken for this ceremony."

"I understand." Rhode Island shrunk down in her chair slightly.

"If there aren't any other questions I'll distribute orders to the group commanders and the rest of you are dismissed." Newberry waved at the door, "Go get some rest, it'll be a nice and early start tomorrow."

* * *

 **Notes:** Groton is the premier American submarine base in the Atlantic and has been since before the Second World War, so it's effectively the ancestral homeland of American submarine girls.

The guidebook is based off a few similar books that date from WWII such as the book for PT boat crews: KNOW YOUR PT BOAT. Of course, the new ones don't have the racism of the older ones but the idea of the book is the same.

The idea of the TV Guided missiles comes from a snip I wrote that was later titled 'Princeton and the Pilot', for how modern aircraft and ships could handle Abyssals a bit better even with their spookiness. Modern submarines can also act as fast transports for shipgirl submarines, getting them in close so they can cover the last distance without having to be limited by their conventional endurance.

For my own edification, do people think that I've been building up Norfolk for too long now?


	12. Chapter 12

**Norfolk, Virginia,**

 _What's taking so long?_ Rhode Island watched the summoning building as the time dragged past 1030 with mounting worry. _None of the other summonings took this long_!

"Okie I have to say I don't like it." Pensacola drawled, "Something's screwy."

"You don't know that for sure," Salt Lake City chided, but her tone made her true thoughts clear.

Oklahoma's annoyance fairly dripped from her words, "Salt Lake City is right, we don't know that anything is wrong so we'll keep on our circuit until we get other orders." As she turned away Rhode Island noticed that the secondary turrets arranged on the back of Oklahoma's rigging were slowly depressing until they were ready to engage surface targets.

 _That can't be good…_

Minutes passed as the line of heavy ships came about and started on another leg northeast across the mouth of the James River, the heavy cruisers up front, then Oklahoma, Rhode Island, and Arkansas bringing up the rear. Rhode Island looked over at the line of distinctly bored destroyers running alongside them, one of them yawned extravagantly. The clock slipped over past 1045.

The summoning building blossomed, the windows shattering and doors blowing out from internal explosions. Shellfire punched through the walls of the building as the unmistakable sounds of Abyssal guns mixed with the reports of shipgirl guns. Rhode Island felt her stomach sink as the smoke obscured the building.

"Tucker! Move in!" Oklahoma shouted as the volume of gunfire increased, with the sounds of 5 inchers supplanting the heavy guns.

"Right!" The destroyer shouted back as she peeled away, her sister destroyers following her as they accelerated towards the building, torpedo launchers at the ready. Rhode Island squinted, trying to see through the smoke and the flashes of main and secondary guns with her eyes and radar. _There are too many contacts!_ Between the destroyers, a large thing that might be the target, and the clutter on the shore there wasn't any way to tell what was hidden in the smoke.

Then something burst through the smoke towards her, skimming just above the water.

Rhode Island screamed in pain and clutched her face as she felt something sharp plunge into her eyes. On reflex she fired her guns into the smoke, then just as soon as the pain had happened it was gone, and she blinked away the tears as the damage report filtered into her brain. _Forward rangefinder is gone_. Rhode Island reached up and prodded the gash on the top of her head.

Her attention was taken back by Oklahoma as she waved the line of shipgirls ahead, "Hold your fire and all flank! We're in their line of fire!" She kicked the water and leaped ahead as more heavy shells passed through and landed among the line of shipgirls. Rhode Island followed suit, but she kept her eyes on the growing spread of smoke and flashes across Willoughby Bay as the battleships who were in the building traded fire with an Abyssal. _We're less than 5000 yards away, when it shows its face I'm going to blow it off!_

A few moments later, a humanoid shape loomed through the smoke, sending up sprays of water from its feet. Eye-searing blue fire billowed from several dozen wounds in its body, matched only by the fire that burned in its hollow eye sockets. Rhode Island's jaw dropped.

 _What the hell is that thing! It's like its…_ Unfinished.

The Abyssal's legs and arms were little more than gnarled, blackened bone and sinew with a few strands of leathery muscle stretched taught over them. Its clothing was a gleaming black dress, now torn and burning, and its rig was armored and monstrous, with massive snakelike turrets with protruding gun barrels that writhed from their position on the Abyssal's back, howling as they fired back into the building. But it's face-

Rhode Island was jolted out of her shock by the report of Oklahoma's 14'' guns. Flashes from impacts and blue dyed pillars of water erupted on and around the Abyssal which charged through the spray, with its gaze now fixed on the shipgirls standing in its way. For just a moment before more shells dropped atop it, Rhode Island saw the Abyssal's head clearly. A grotesque and twisted thing, with corpse-pale skin stretched tight over a bald and fleshless skull, a slack jaw, and hateful blue eyes.

A moment later she willed her main battery to fire again, her six main guns roared and she was rewarded by a handful of flashes from hits through the spray.

Suddenly a new sort of explosion erupted by the Abyssal, then another, and another. Pillars of water that rose more than a hundred feet in the air. The cheers from Tucker's destroyer division indicated what exactly had just happened as another wave of torpedoes struck home.

Oklahoma barked the order, "Cease fire." Rhode Island looked ahead at the older battleship, whose expression was hovering between abject agony and rage.

Silence dominated the waters between Norfolk and Hampton. Rhode Island slowed and watched as the smoke and spray cleared from around the Abyssal. It was sprawled face down on the water, flames still rising from its battered body, and its turrets lay still. Then it slowly started to rise up, it's remaining arm reached towards the distant line of shipgirls, clawing the air.

"Okie wait!" Arkansas shouted as Oklahoma broke out of line and steamed towards the Abyssal. Rhode Island joined Arkansas and the cruisers in pursuit,

"What is she doing?" Pensacola growled.

"I don't know, but it's probably nothing smart." Arkansas replied, "Okie come bac-" Oklahoma heeled over into a tight turn, sending up a plume of spray as she swung her tomahawk down into the Abyssal's neck. Rhode Island couldn't help but wince as Oklahoma chopped wildly at the battered Abyssal. After several seconds she kicked away from the near-corpse and sped away as she trained all her guns at the Abyssal. Then she shouted,

"Open fire!" Before her main battery roared once again.

Rhode Island complied, her 16'' main battery spoke as one, joined by the staccato of her 5'' battery as the shipgirls buried the Abyssal in shellfire for the second time. She strained to reload her main battery faster, firing as soon as even a single gun was loaded. _Not like I could miss that thing from this close anyway!_

Without warning the Abyssal howled in agony, Rhode Island covered her ears against the noise, what is it doing now! The screech rose in pitch then ended with a sound like a noose had just drawn around the Abyssal's neck. Silently, it twisted and contorted, until it split open from neck to hip with a flash of brilliant blue flame. The Abyssal's body burst, sending the shattered parts of the thing across the bay under a black mushroom cloud. Rhode Island ducked as the remains of a main battery gun careened past her. _How did we detonate its magazines? We're too close to get shells down there…_ She winced as Pensacola launched into a tirade of profanity as she came to her own conclusion,

"It scuttled itself!"

As the smoke cleared, the remains of the Abyssal came into view. _Why did it scuttle itself? We were going to have sunk it anyway!_ Moments later the last chunk of the Abyssal's body slipped under the surface with a hiss of steam. Some aspect of Rhode Island noted that the time was just after 1100 in her log.

She watched as Oklahoma swung around the shattered remains of the Abyssal and powered back towards them, her expression decidedly grim, though she avoided meeting anyone's eyes.

"Reform, and make twenty knots to the harbor mouth. Now"

Rhode Island looked back at the summoning building as she turned away from it. The smoke had mostly cleared away, but the lights of emergency vehicles outside were clear enough several hundred yards away. The plan is the plan, but shouldn't we go back there and help them?

"Arkan-" She stopped as Arkansas held up her hand,

"I know what you want to do Rhodie, but they have their tasking and we have ours. If they needed us in there they would call."

"If you say so..."

"What hit you?"

"One of the shells that came out of the smoke," Rhode Island poked at her head wound again, feeling the dried blood on her scalp. "I lost my forward rangefinder."

"If it's not terminal then you're good to keep on," both of the battleships jumped as Oklahoma interjected. "If you still have radar sets and working turrets you can shoot, we don't know what we're going to find out there." Rhode Island gulped,

"Yes, ma'am!"

* * *

 **Kure,**

With a clatter, the sliding door of the bunkroom was thrown open and the far too cheerful voice of a particular light cruiser shattered the sleep of the destroyers.

"Finally! My long-awaited night battle! Get up!"

And she's gone… Fubuki squinted at the light from the hall as the sound of Sendai's footsteps clattered down the hall to the next room over, where the 19th destroyer division were sleeping. With a sigh, she clambered down from her bunk and stretched. _It's probably another false alarm, some jumpy fisherman seeing the moonlight or something…_

She looked around the room she shared with the rest of Destroyer Division 11, consisting of the first ships of the class that carried her name. Shirayuki was already getting up and getting dressed, Hatsuyuki on the other hand…

Fubuki grabbed her shoulder and shook, "Wake up, we have an order."

"I wanna sleep."

"But we have a mission!"

"Impossible things are impossible." Hatsuyuki replied, then she rolled away from Fubuki and pulled her blanket tighter. Wordlessly, Fubuki grabbed the blanket and pulled.

With a squawk of surprise, Hatsuyuki tumbled from her bunk and glared up at her older sister. "Fine, I guess…" She slowly got up and shuffled to her locker to get dressed.

 **30 minutes later,**

Fubuki looked over her shoulder at the force that was departing from Kure, illuminated by the half-moon despite the blackout of the entire coastline. By almost any metric it was a formidable one, the entirety of the Second Fleet, two battleships, eight cruisers, and thirty-one destroyers were streaming onto the ocean and organizing themselves. Just behind them were the lately returned shipgirls of the First Air Fleet, despite the urgency of the orders they were clearly fatigued

 _They couldn't help in the dark anyway. I really hope that this isn't another screwup.._. She looked ahead and shifted course slightly to keep in line behind Sendai. _Normally this would be enjoyable, going out and scouting for the enemy, but if it's real and this close to Japan… How did it even get this close?_

"Sendai, what do you know about the alert?"

"Not much," she replied airily. "That's what we're going to find out."

As they rounded the Sadamisaki Peninsula, Fubuki's eyes widened at the sight of a steel hull warship limping towards Kure. Even several thousand yards out, she could clearly see the flames along the weather deck. Can't tell the type, but those fires must be really bad. As the distance closed, details started to resolve themselves. A forward superstructure with a toppled truss mast, a funnel, then the rear funnel and hanger for the helicopters. The entire starboard side had been torn apart by shellfire, the steel perforated and twisted, and the area between the funnels burned furiously despite the efforts of the crew. _It's a miracle it didn't sink them outright, but why didn't it?_

Abyssals were driven to kill humans and shipgirls whenever they found them, and only the ones that had the potential to be shipgirls could reign that desire in. Unless ordered not to, most Abyssals would charge ahead until their target was dead or they were destroyed.

 _If the Abyssal left the_ … Fubuki squinted to try and make out the number on the hull, by the light of the moon and the fires she could make out '-05', with the first numeral having been erased by an Abyssal shell. She winced, _That's the Inazuma.. Oh she'll be heartbroken when she sees this_. A moment later she shook her head to clear it. _Focus! If the Abyssal left them, then that means it can control itself, which means that it's…_

"Like a shipgirl." She whispered to herself. Then she called out, "Sendai!"

The light cruiser called back, "What is it?"

"This Abyssal is a corrupted shipgirl!"

"I know," Sendai spun around to face Fubuki, her eyes flashing red. If it was from the fires on the Inazuma or something else, Fubuki couldn't say. "It won't escape from us!"

Despite Sendai's bravado, Fubuki watched as the shattered Inazuma limped on its way to safe harbor. _It's trying to run away, and it won't let anything get away with trying to track it. At least we have the rest of the fleet right behind us._

* * *

 **Norfolk,**

Rhode Island dragged her feet as she exited the waters of the Chesapeake Bay, _That was the biggest waste of time I think I've ever seen. Not even one Abyssal to shoot at…_

She looked over at the gutted shell of the summoning building and felt a chill down her spine, It's probably for the best though. The skylights were shattered, and the small bits of broken glass that crunched under her feet gave testament to how violent the fight had been inside.

Someone laid a hand on Rhode Island's shoulder, "Hey." Oklahoma gently pulled the smaller battleship along, "You've never been to the docks here, I'll show you the-" She stopped as her phone rang, "Follow me." Rhode Island half listened as she trailed along towards the docks. "Hello? Duncan, what-"

Rhode Island jumped as Oklahoma shouted, "What!" Her phone fell from her hand and she took off at a sprint, leaving Rhode Island alone. She picked up the phone and held it to her ear,

"Hello?"

"Who- Rhode Island?" Duncan sighed, "Did Okie leave her phone again?

"Yes, she did."

"It'll be a while before she misses it, if you could bring it by the docks that'd be very helpful."

"What did you tell her?"

Duncan muttered something Rhode Island couldn't make out, then said. "I need you to keep this secret for a while, alright?"

"I can do that."

"Washington is _here_."

Rhode Island looked at the phone in her hand and croaked, "What?"

"We're still working on that ourselves, but she's in the docks now." Rhode Island's mind raced, _But I saw that Abyssal sink, unless she came back right after that? But wouldn't she-_ "You still there?"

"Y-yes!"

"Good. Until we get what exactly happened sorted out we want to keep this pretty quiet."

"Why though?"

"Not my call, but I think summoning an Abyssal into the biggest base on the entire coast by accident is something to be a bit concerned about. "

 _Oh, well that makes some sense at least._.. "I'm going to the docks anyway, but I don't know where they are. Oklahoma was going to take me there but she's gone already."

"They're on the first level of the shipgirl dorm, new building, north north west of the ceremony building. You can't miss it."

* * *

 **Off the Coast of Japan,**

 _What are you?_ Fubuki's eyes were locked on the faint plume of smoke on the horizon that marked the location of the Abyssal. It was just over the horizon, far enough that it shouldn't be able to see the shipgirls. _And if it can see us, it doesn't seem to care very much._

Sendai's growl drew Fubuki's attention to the formation leader, whose agitation was clearly visible and who's mutterings were also getting louder. "-Sending us out here and then having us just sit here while the bird farms drink their tea and eat their rice before doing anything useful, not like they could follow something during the day, no…"

Fubuki cleared her throat, "Are you alright Sendai?"

"Yes." She snapped, "I'm fine." The light cruiser lapsed into silence.

As the minutes passed, something changed about the plume of smoke. _What is it doing? It's almost like it's-_ The horizon flashed in a way that was unmistakable, "Incoming!" The shipgirls kicked the ocean and turned as one to starboard, Fubuki flinched as the heavy shells tore overhead and slammed into the water several hundred meters behind them.

Fubuki laughed to herself, _it'd take a miracle for that thing to hit us at this range. Just have to be a bit unpredictable!_ She winced as Sendai shouted over the radio,

"It's started shooting at us! Can we start-" She visibly recoiled as Nagato's voice replied,

"Maintain position Sendai! Carrier Division One has bombers in the air!"

The light cruiser's growl made the goosebumps stand up on Fubuki's arms, but she managed to grind out the word, "Understood."

She lapsed into silence as more heavy shells harmlessly plowed into the ocean, each sending up towers of water and showering the area with shrapnel. The horizon lit up in a series of flashes as the Abyssal fired another salvo, _Five?_ Fubuki turned to look at the diminishing splashes around them and counted, _Ten per salvo… What sort of Abyssal is this?_ She racked her brain to splice this new information together,

 _It has ten guns but five turrets, there are the clones of those American battleships but they're much too slow. Those British ones with the four gun turrets have ten and are fast enough, but they only have three turrets… There has to be one that matches, but I don't know what it is._

Minutes passed, then the same realization struck every shipgirl in the formation. Fubuki's eyes narrowed as she mentally plotted the smoke and gun flashes, _It's turned back towards us._

* * *

 **Norfolk Repair Bay,**

"Hold still, this will sting."

Rhode Island winced as Duncan sterilized the gash across her head, "What are you even doing here? I thought that you lived in Newport."

"I go with the battleships." He replied, "While this is a bit outside my specialty, I follow to do repair and modifications on riggings." He picked up a bandage and started to unwrap it, "Since Washington was going to be summoned, of course I'd be here to do what I could if it was necessary."

"You must have been busy today then huh?"

"I've seen worse but…" Duncan trailed off as he started to wrap the clean cloth around Rhode Island's head. "They're all able to walk around on their own. Well mostly on their own. By the way, what did you do with your hair?"

"My hair?"

"You didn't notice? It's purple at the roots." Rhode Island grabbed a stainless steel tray and studied her reflection, but only small parts of her hair were sticking out from under the bandages. "Around back I can see it clear as day still."

"I've never done anything that would do that…" _Have I? Is this normal for shipgirls? Some of us have pretty colorful hair-_

"Well, just keep an eye on it, I don't see how it could be dangerous though." The engineer stifled a yawn, "This has been a hell of a day."

"I'd say so..." Rhode Island glanced over at the closed door to the repair baths, "Could I go in and see them?"

"Washington is going to be a no, she's stable but not great. The rest should be up for visitors, but they got pretty mangled today." Duncan leaned back in his chair, "I've got at least another couple of weeks of work on their rigs, Nevada and Maryland burned pretty bad, and Washington... Well, that's its own project entirely."

 _What does that mean?_ Rhode Island swallowed nervously, "I saw the Abyssal, does Wash look like-"

"Oh no. She looks normal enough, but she was the closest to the Abyssal when it appeared so she got the worst-." There was a creak as the door to the repair bays swung open. Colorado, grinning, half her face covered in bandages, hair singed and charred, with her right leg wrapped in bandages and locked in a sort of brace, hobbled out. She stopped and waved jauntily with her free hand,

"I thought I heard people out here. Good evening Duncan, Rhode Island."

"Thank you Colorado. What's the verdict?"

"Oh, this?" She shook her right leg, "I'm already getting some feeling back into it, and it'll be like it never happened inside a week!" Rhode Island looked closer at the bandages, Is that the brace or is her leg shorter than it used to be? She looked back up when Colorado asked, "What happened to you?"

"Ah, a shell grazed me is all." She replied as she prodded at the bandage.

"Nothing severe then, that's good to hear." Her smile faded slightly, "That's some more good news at least."

Duncan spoke up again, "Have the techs decided how long Washington will be in for?"

"It will be a couple of weeks before she can even get on her feet, let alone actually get out onto the water."

"Could I see her?"

Duncan and Colorado turned to look at Rhode Island, then the battleship replied. "I don't see why not…? There isn't much to see though, she looks like they just pulled her out from under a pyramid right now." She waved towards the door, "Come on."

The repair bays were dim, with thick curtains over the high windows and around many of the individual repair berths. A low vice echoed from the farthest bay, "-Kind of morbid a lot of the time, but she can't really help it. But she still cares about all of us-." There was a rustle as Oklahoma pulled one of the curtains aside. She looked back into the closed-off space, "Colorado is back! And she brought Rhodie!" She pulled the curtain open farther, and Rhode Island saw Washington for the first time.

She lay on a mesh stretcher, submerged up to her neck in the repair bath. The only part of her visible under the draped sheet and the yards of bandages was a few tufts of dull brown hair and her eyes, large, alert, and which were locked on the newly arrived shipgirls.

"I was just telling Wash more about our sisters," Oklahoma explained as Colorado carefully lowered herself onto a chair. "Nevada, Mary, and West are sleeping now."

"Sleeping?" Rhode Island looked at the partially open curtain to the next repair bay, _It's too dark to tell who's in there._

"None of them are in shape to talk right now, Nevada and Mary are just burned and West is missing most of her neck." Oklahoma said as she closed the curtains back and returned to her seat. Rhode Island looked at the figure in the other bay again, _That's a neck brace…_ The ghoulish image of West Virginia, nearly decapitated, rose unbidden in her imagination. Then Washington's bandages moved,

"H-" Her eyes screwed shut in a wince of pain for a moment and she growled in annoyance. Colorado jerked upright in her chair,

"Don't try and talk! We'll be able to talk more when you're better okay?"

With a defeated tone Washington grunted, "Mm-hmn."

"Do you want us to leave you to rest?"

"Hmn-unm."

"Okay," Oklahoma settled herself onto a chair close to Washington and picked up a large book from the floor. "Rhodie, I think there is a bath open if you'd like. I'll probably be here for the night." She opened the book, pulled a photograph from the pages, and held it where Washington could see it, "Now Idaho is almost the opposite of Mississippi-"

"Could I say here instead?"

"I don't see why not, but may I ask why?"

"Well, you're talking about the other battleships right? I haven't met most of them, so I'd like to hear about them."

"Find a place to sit down then. Now, Idaho will really want to be your friend…"

* * *

 **Off the Coast of Japan,**

Fubuki felt her heart hammering as she strained to keep pace with Sendai, the light cruiser had taken off towards the Abyssal at full speed the moment she'd realized the Abyssal had turned, with a murderous light in her eyes. Combined, they were closing at well over 50 knots, with the Abyssal still lobbing heavy shells towards them.

 _Even though Nagato gave us orders, I don't think I've had this much fun on an operation since Luzon!_ Fubuki reached over and pulled her slung turret around and readied it, _This'll be just like every drill, only during the day, and without airplanes all over us…_

Her head snapped up as she spotted a glint of glass or aluminum, it only took a moment to spot the formation of fast-moving dots at 3000 meters, and a few moments more before she recognized the type. _Suisei! They're going to get there first!_ Sendai spat a vicious curse and shook her fist at the planes,

"We're so close!"

One of the Suiseis exploded into flame. Trailing smoke, it rolled lazily towards the ocean, less one wing. Then another of the dive bombers was shattered into a ball of fire and shredded aluminum.

Plunging through the formation were Abyssal fighters, their noses and wings flashing with gunfire. In a matter of seconds, the dive bombers had their number halved and had been scattered across the sky by the sudden attack.

 _We're in a trap._ Fubuki brought her guns up to fire at the planes, she flinched as another quartet of heavy shells bracketed the shipgirls. Water and shrapnel rained down around them, and over the cacophony Shirayuki shouted,

"Sendai! We have to retreat!"

"No! We're so close!"

As if to ram Shirayuki's point home, the Abyssal started to turn, firing as soon as it unmasked its main guns. Sendai screamed in frustration as she kicked the water and heeled over to turn away. _She's not going to be helpful, is she?_ Fubuki sighed internally before giving her commands, "Make smoke and follow Sendai!"

With a mental command, thick smoke rolled from the funnel on her back, in a matter of moments the destroyers and light cruiser were concealed behind the thick plume.

* * *

"-Our way back now. Out."

Nagato crossed her arms and scanned the eastern horizon, _There wasn't an Abyssal force with carriers anywhere near here last evening, so where did those planes come from?_ A deep feeling of unease set in at the very familiar situation of being taken by surprise by the enemy. _We aren't ready for an actual battle with an Abyssal task force, Akagi is wounded and Kaga is lacking most of her fighters still. Without fighters, we can't hope to attack the Abyssal with bombers, and we can't catch it without it being slowed down by damage of some kind._

There was only one reasonable option, but her heart rebelled at the thought of it. _Thirty-three of the sailors on Inazuma are dead, turning back would dishonor their sacrifice._ But the image that dominated her nightmares remained, No air cover and being swarmed by airplanes. She looked around the shipgirls, light cruisers and destroyers without the anti-air firepower to protect against a concerted attack. _I only have one acceptable option then._

"Come about one hundred and eighty degrees, we shall return to Kure to prepare for further operations as required." With a last glare at the horizon, Nagato came about and started heading west, away from the unknown Abyssals beyond sight.

* * *

Notes:

I'm very sorry for the long wait, but I'm a senior finishing up my bachelors in engineering and have been up to my eyeballs in stuff.

The Kure fleet is nominally accurate to the forces that were homeported there in 1941, including DesDiv6.

I suspect it'll be another long wait before the next chapter since I have about a month more of school, and then I'm moving two states over for my first full-time job.

Suisei is the Yokosuka D4Y dive bomber.


End file.
